


KEYS TO THE KINGDOM

by naboojakku



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Affairs, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Banter, Ben cheats on his wife with Rey, Ben’s 35, Biting, Blood Kink, Brat Rey, CNC, Cheating, Consensual Non-Consent, Creampie, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, D/s Vibes, Daddy Ben Solo, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dominant Ben Solo, Drug Dealing, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face-Fucking, Father/Daughter Incest, Fellatio, Foreplay, Hair-pulling, Incest, Infidelity, Light Dom/sub, Light Face Slapping, Masturbation, Menstruation Kink, Naked Female Clothed Male, Neck Kissing, No Condoms, No Plot/Plotless, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poe watches, Poe’s like: eye emoji lips emoji eye emoji, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rey’s 16, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spit Kink, Teasing, Threesome But Not, Voyeurism, age gap, dont fuck w me and my plotless smut, dubcon, noncon, not me with the pop culture references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboojakku/pseuds/naboojakku
Summary: Every morning before school, Ben drives his daughter Rey to a Motel 6 on the edge of town.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 104
Kudos: 250





	1. 🅂🄸🄲🄺🄾 MӨDΣ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **i just rly like daddy ben ok** 😔

At the top of the stairs, Rey adjusts the straps of her backpack and casts a look over her shoulder. 

She remembered to close the door to her bedroom this time, which is good—she didn’t feel like making the bed this morning, and Mom always gets irritable when she leaves things messy. But Rey doesn’t see the point. Why bother when she’s just going to climb back under the covers ten hours from now and ruin it? Adults make these ridiculous rules and then act surprised when kids decide not to follow them. 

“Pencil case, binder, hair bands,” she mumbles under her breath, descending the staircase. Sometimes Daddy makes her go to school when they’re done, although that’s been happening less and less lately. Ever since she mentioned—thoughtlessly and without much expectation—that she likes to cuddle afterward, he’s been determined to cuddle her into an early grave. 

Daddy, in jeans and a plain, collarless t-shirt, meets her by the front door, keys in hand. “Ready to go?” 

She nods. Mom’s either in the shower or down in the laundry room folding the whites. He likes to leave while she’s distracted because then they can make a “clean getaway.” Dramatic, but hey, those are his words.

Rey thinks that’s kind of funny, the idea of Mom noticing their new schedule. Even at sixteen she recognizes how involved Mom is with herself—Daddy calls her narcissistic. She doesn’t really seem to care about anything outside of her own little sphere. “Not very perceptive, that one,” Grandma Leia once muttered at a family dinner. Unsurprisingly, Mom didn't notice. 

Daddy herds her outside, and she skips down the cobbled path to the driveway. It’s a beautiful spring morning, the kind filled with chirping birdsong and the soff hush of a warm breeze. Most of the trees have found their leaves again, and flowers are just beginning to bloom. She sees hints of pink and red petals in their neighbor’s flower beds, and the sight brings a smile to her face. Spring is her favorite season. 

Humming, she tugs on the passenger door handle. “Daddy, open up.”

He leans against the driver’s side door, peering at her over the roof of the car, and smirks. “Well, well. Someone’s eager this morning.”

A blush pinkens her cheeks, and she sticks out her tongue. “Maybe I just have things to do.” 

“You certainly have _one_ thing to do,” he says, and his smile widens into a grin when she blushes furiously and looks down. “I’m teasing, baby.” 

The doors of the Mercedes unlock, and Rey practically throws herself into the passenger seat. “I know you are,” she mumbles, stuffing her backpack under the glove compartment.

The engine rumbles quietly to life, and Daddy strokes a hand over her hair. She’s never really been into hair maintenance, but she took care to brush out all the tangles this morning. He loves to run his hands through her short brown locks; gives him a weird sense of satisfaction, apparently. She doesn’t question it.

Rey fiddles with the radio, hoping to find a Top 40 station. “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd, or “Golden” by Harry Styles, maybe. She was never a One Direction fan, but something about Harry’s voice is really soothing. Mom’s obsessed with him, which is kind of embarrassing for a thirty-whatever year old.

Daddy swats her hand away before she can find a good song and tugs the seatbelt across her chest. 

“Safety first,” they say at the same time, Rey with an eye roll, Daddy with a little smile. He loves to do these small things to take care of her. Just like the hair stroking, this makes him feel good. 

She makes a face at the radio. “‘Old Town Road’?”

Daddy clicks the seatbelt into place and pulls at the strap. He fusses for a second when it stretches too far, and Rey tamps down her exasperation. “You don’t like Little Nas X?” 

“Oh my God.” She stifles a giggle. “ _Lil_ Nas X, Dad.”

Finally satisfied with the belt, he leans back in his own seat. “Oh, well, _forgive_ me. _Lil._ ”

“You’re showing your age.” She finally clicks over to a new station. Camila Cabello’s latest hit is just fading to a close, which is perfect timing—Rey’s never been into her music. She finds it kind of annoying, actually. Havana, cabana, whatever. 

Daddy pretends to be offended as he maneuvers out of the driveway. “That’s harsh.”

She shrugs blithely. “Keep up with the times, old man.” 

He reaches across the center console and grabs her bare thigh, making her squeal. “I’ll show you _old man_.” 

“Daddy!” she squeaks, tugging at his fingers. “Hands on the wheel!”

He grumbles but, with one last squeeze, withdraws his hand. Before, she might've grumbled and snapped at him for his invasive attention, but this has become routine. His number one priority, even above making her happy, is keeping her safe. 

She understands this, although that doesn’t mean it’s something she agrees with. Sometimes he gets a little obsessive about her safety—one might even say _paranoid._ Several times over the past few weeks, Mom’s given him curious looks when he forgets himself and goes a little off-the-rails—whether that means buttoning up her coat from hem to collar when it rains or refusing to let her call an Uber to meet a friend at the mall because rideshares are _dangerous._

Rey likes to pretend his attentiveness doesn’t affect her one way or the other—that, in fact, she doesn't even notice at all—but only because she knows her apparent indifference drives Daddy deeper into his obsession. 

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he'll leave the bedroom he still shares with Mom and creep into Rey’s to make sure she’s okay. His intrusion usually wakes her up. She’ll whine and push him away, but only because her resistance fuels him on. Lately he’s been staying with her until her alarm goes off in the morning, and then at breakfast he has to pretend like he didn’t have his hands shoved inside her panties half the night. 

It’s a game, one of many they both willingly play.

On the expressway, traffic’s just beginning to slow. Classes start at the unholy hour of seven-fifteen, and usually Rey’s barely conscious on the ride to school. But on days like today, days when she and Daddy have alternate plans, she couldn’t possibly be more awake. Her excitement is the equivalent of, like, five cups of coffee, plus maybe six shots of espresso—(this is only her best guess though since her parents have never allowed her to drink caffeine). Her legs jiggle, knees popping up and down like they’re on springs, and her eyes shine bright with anticipation. 

_Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!_

When they officially started their affair, several weeks ago now, Rey was stricken with terror that Mom or someone else would find out somehow. Her worst nightmare was having Mom walk in on them while they were naked in bed—not because it would be embarrassing, but because then they would be forced to stop. 

And neither of them wanted that. 

But over time, she’s come to trust Daddy. He plans everything so carefully. Now, at the thought of being discovered, she’s secretly kind of thrilled, and that’s because it’s pretty unlikely. All the fear and worry went straight out the window when Daddy reassured her there’s absolutely no chance Mom will ever catch on. He installed a tracking app on her phone, and it beeps whenever Mom gets within five-hundred feet of them outside the house.

She won’t admit this to anyone else, but part of her _wants_ Mom to find them together. Part of her—a vicious, jealous part—wants Mom to walk in on Daddy fucking her from behind so she can see with her own eyes how much more he loves his daughter.

 _I pick you—every time,_ he’ll say randomly when they’re cuddling, and maybe one day she’ll find out for sure if it’s true.

Fifteen minutes later, Daddy glides to a stop in a mostly deserted parking lot. The Motel 6 is a low building with peeling paint and cracked stone. It’s ugly but cheap and out of the way. There’s no reason for Mom or anyone else they know to swing by this section of town. Daddy can afford much nicer, but then they run the risk of accidentally meeting one of his employees or a family friend. 

“Did you text him?” she asks, adjusting the pleats of her skirt. She’ll need a whole new set before junior year. In the past few months she’s grown two inches, and none of the uniforms fit like they should. 

Daddy holds up his phone and then rapidly types out a message. Rey watches him, admiring his face, arms wrapped around the headrest to stretch out the kinks in her back. His furrowed brow, the strong jaw, the slope of his nose, the plush set of his lips. There’s a faint scar along the right side of his face, jagged and deep but faded now—a remnant from his days as a prominent drug dealer. Her awareness of the topic isn't a big deal—he and Mom have always been super open about it. 

“We all make mistakes when we’re young,” Mom told her when they sat down to formally discuss it together, patting her hand. “It’s not until we’re older we see that what we did was wrong. _Very_ wrong.”

She could feel Daddy’s eyes on her face while Mom explained it to her, and that night in bed she had to persuade him that of _course_ she didn’t care if he’d done bad things when he was young. He was concerned that she would later view their relationship in a bad light, that she would come to think of it as a mistake, but she managed to convince him that wasn’t the case. It was pretty easy, actually. He was more than eager for her to persuade him. 

After sending the text, Daddy opens the Mercedes' door and gestures for her to get out too. She leaps outside, breathing in the smell of gasoline and fried foods. With a big yawn, she stretches her arms high above her head. Last night she only managed to fall asleep after two AM, once he grew too exhausted to continue. 

“Still tired?” Daddy’s suddenly there, arms locking around her waist, and he pulls her up against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world to manhandle her in the open. She giggles and pats his cheek, and his smile deepens as he adds, “I’m not sure you’re up to what I have in mind.”

“I’m probably more awake than you are,” she counters, swatting his shoulder teasingly. “Girls bounce back faster, anyway.”

“Oh, do they?” He ducks his head to kiss her throat, and she arcs up on the balls of her feet to give him better access.

“I’m—young, too,” she gasps, tugging the hair at the base of his neck. “Better stamina.” 

“You’re gonna pay for all these old man jokes,” he growls into her neck, squeezing her bottom. 

She squeals and struggles to break free. He lets her, but only after nibbling on her neck. They dance around each other in the parking lot, laughing and making faces, until Rey trips on the curb. He snags her around the waist and hauls her over his shoulder.

“ _Dad,_ put me—”

“You need to be careful,” he says gruffly, and smacks her ass with the flat of his palm. She kicks her feet, and he smacks her again. “I swear to god, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure it’s your fault,” she says, breathing heavily. “You were chasing me!” 

He doesn’t respond, and she fidgets as he strides for the motel room at the end of the block. They have an on-going arrangement with the desk clerk—Daddy pays him triple the price for a standard room in exchange for plausible deniability. The man looks the other way whenever they visit, and Daddy basically pays his salary. Everybody wins. 

“When is he—coming?” she says breathlessly as Daddy inserts the key to their room. 

“He said half an hour, maybe sooner if he can avoid the traffic on 42.” 

A thrill shoots through Rey. Of course she loves her alone time with Daddy—how could she not? He makes her feel like a princess, like the center of his world. But every now and then it’s fun to have someone else join in. 

With restrictions in place, of course. 

Daddy bulls through the creaky front door and slams it shut behind him. The motel room is familiar to her now—a single, queen-sized bed in the center, a wooden table with two matching chairs along one wall, as well as a small desk, one closet, and a tiny bathroom. The motel renovated last year, so now there’s brand new carpet and light sconces on the walls. No more fluorescents—now a buttery yellow warmth suffuses the room. The glow makes it feel cozy and intimate. 

Rey’s dumped on the bed like a sack of flour and bounces twice at the impact. Giggling, she kicks off her nice white sneakers and flings her school cardigan to the floor. Daddy casts her a warning look. 

“We’re not going to make a mess today, are we?” he scolds, picking up her shirt. “We have a visitor.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighs, wrinkling her nose. When they’re alone, it doesn’t matter how they do things or what the room looks like. But when his friend visits, Daddy prefers to present a clean, no-frills environment. Nothing on the floor, no haphazardly-tossed blankets or wrinkled sheets. Things tend to get messy once they both get into it, but Daddy likes them to at least maintain the _illusion_ of a nice space when they first start.

Predictably, Daddy checks the locks on the front and sliding glass doors, yanking hard to test their endurance. Then he flicks on all the lights and closes the bathroom door, sealing away the sight of the toilet and bath. They “detract from the atmosphere,” apparently, and Daddy prefers them out of sight. 

Finished with his routine, he leans against the desk and crosses his arms. Silent, watchful, expectant. Rey strips off her white undershirt and stands up on the bed, wobbling a little on the spongy mattress. Daddy tenses, but she waves him off and wiggles out of her skirt. 

The fabric snags around one ankle, and she kicks it over to Daddy, who rolls his eyes and catches it in one hand. He shoves the skirt into a desk drawer with her cardigan, but wags a finger when she starts to unhook her bra. 

“Let me.” He crooks the same finger, and she scrambles across the mattress. 

Kneeling in front of him, she dutifully keeps her hands by her sides. Daddy doesn’t like her to interfere when he’s undressing her because it’s—in his words— _therapeutic._ Which sounds weird, but there’s not much she can do about it. One day last month, when she refused to let him take his time, Daddy got angry, shoved her facedown on the bed, and spanked her with an open palm until she cried. But the punishment ended up being kind of pointless anyway—he still fucked her after. 

But man, did her ass _hurt._

With a thoughtful tilt of his head, Daddy maneuvers her until she’s facing the headboard, still on her knees. His fingers brush along the unwire of her bra, then slide around to the front. He cups her breasts and sighs into her hair. “Your period ended last week, didn’t it?”

“Yup.” 

It's a redundant question, but he's the type of man to double-check. He started keeping a special calendar for her cycle because sometimes he gets in a "mood" and wants to take her while she’s menstruating. Personally, she thinks it’s a little gross—blood gets all over her thighs and tummy, and on the sheets too—but Daddy’s really into it and cleans her up nice after, so she can’t really complain.

“Hm. This bra is new.”

Rey perks up. “Yeah, Mom brought me to Victoria’s Secret yesterday. Told me to pick out a few. I got a red one and a blue one too.”

He frowns and pinches her nipples through the silky fabric. “Why’s that? Special occasion?”

She snorts. “No. Mom just said I need to look nice under my clothes for when boys, you know— For when I get a boyfriend.”

His hands tighten on her breasts, and she squeaks at the pressure. The bed creaks as he places one knee on the mattress, between her own. His mouth skates along the back of her neck, hot and close. “You plan on finding a boyfriend soon, baby? A little teenage prick to make you feel good?”

Rey wavers. She knows Daddy gets jealous sometimes, especially when he picks her up from school and sees her talking with Mitaka or Finn about homework or whatever. But she thinks it’s only fair—he still sleeps in Mom’s bedroom, and even though he _promises_ they haven’t had sex in months and months, there’s no way she can know that for sure. It makes her angry, that he’s still so close to Mom. 

So she wiggles her ass and says coyly, “Maybe.” 

He barks a short laugh and roughly pulls her back into his chest, caressing her breasts. She whines, annoyed by the barrier of her bra, but he nips her earlobe. “Settle down, now. We’ll get there.” Then he pauses, and when he speaks next, his voice has a sly edge to it. “Or maybe we won’t. _Maybe,_ ” he stresses, “you’ll get dressed and I’ll drive you to school. Maybe you don’t want Daddy anymore.” 

“No,” she says hastily, covering his hands with her own. “I still want you, Daddy. Of course I do.” 

“‘Of course?’” he mocks, pressing his mouth to her ear. “Well, it’s not so obvious to me, baby. If you want a boyfriend, all you have to do is tell me—”

“No, no, I don’t want one,” she insists, tugging on his hands. Shit. She definitely didn’t mean to make him _this_ upset. “Please, Daddy, I—I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” He brushes away her hands and smooths rough, calloused palms down her sides, fingers pressing into her ribs. Her breath catches in her throat—he’s so _big._

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, holding herself still. “Don’t be mad.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy—really, _really_ sorry.”

He unsnaps her bra with a vicious twist and pulls at her panties until it loosens on her hips. Her mouth pushes into a pout as the lacy fabric tears—those are expensive! Not that she paid for them, of course, but trips to Victoria’s Secret are rare, and she needs to fit in with all the other girls or they’ll laugh at her like they laugh at Kaydel and her dollar store granny panties. 

“ _Da-ddy,_ ” she whines, squirming restlessly on her knees. 

He plants a hand on her bare back and shoves her forward. Caught by surprise, she shrieks and bounces on the mattress. “Don’t move,” he orders.

She grumbles but remains sprawled on her belly. Behind her, Daddy shoves her undergarments in the desk drawer with her other clothes. She listens to him shut the drawer, and then there’s silence for a long minute. Rey grins into the comforter, sensing his eyes on her body. She arches her back, just enough to push her butt into the air, and Daddy sighs. 

“You little tease.”

Her smile broadens. “No, I’m not.” 

“Oh, I think you are.” The sound of a buckle being drawn through belt loops. Rey’s breath catches. 

“No-o,” she says cheerfully, “you’re wrong, Daddy.”

“You know what?” There’s a smile in his voice now as he edges closer. The bed trembles as his knees come up against the footboard. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I am?” The words shoot from her mouth without censure, and she curses herself. It’s just like her to walk right into a trap. 

“Mhm.” He smooths a hand down her backside, and when he spreads her cheeks, she closes her eyes. “You’re not a tease, baby. No, not that.”

Rey frowns uncertainly when she feels his fingers wrap around her upper arm, and then she’s being dragged around in a circle. She squeaks and resists a little, but in no time he’s pulled her a complete one-eighty. Blinking furiously, she waits for the room to stop spinning—then hastily swallows. Her face is even with his bulging crotch.

“...Daddy?”

“Not a tease,” he repeats mildly, tossing his belt on the desk. It makes a loud _clank_ as it hits the wood surface. She licks her lips and watches avidly as his fingers creep across his jeans. The only sound in the room is the slow rasp of his zipper. 

This is one of her favorite parts. 

Daddy pulls his swollen cock from out his tight black briefs, and her mouth goes dry. It’s already slick with pre-cum, and when he grabs the base, the plush head brushes her chin. His cock is long and thick and the biggest she’s ever seen—bigger even than the ones in those graphic porn videos he plays on the living room TV sometimes. 

Earlier in the week, he went down on her while Mom was cooking lasagna in the kitchen and while two very naked and very lubed up people writhed around on the big flat screen. She checked on them once or twice, but Daddy was hidden from view by the back of the sofa, and Rey focused on switching the channel to something less...wet. Mom _still_ has no idea those noises weren’t death cries from a zombie movie but moans of pleasure from her daughter’s mouth.

Overeager, Rey’s lips brush the soaked head of his cock, and Daddy tips his head back on a groan. “Mm. A brat. That’s what you are, baby. A fucking _brat._ ” 

She hums, unbothered by the name-calling, and sucks him into her mouth. He tastes like sweat, stickiness, and a purely masculine essence—heat and musk and a faint trace of spice. His hips jerk, and she gags a little when his cock slides down her throat. 

“You wanna be a brat?” Daddy strokes his fingers through her hair, tender and slow, and then without warning wraps her hair around his big fist. He tightens his grip until her neck is bent back at a harsh angle. “Fine. Then Daddy’s gonna treat you like one.” 

For the briefest of moments, he hesitates. Recognizing her cue, Rey sticks out her tongue to lick his dripping shaft. “Please, Daddy,” she mewls between licks. “I’m sorry.” 

That’s all the encouragement he needs. With a rough thrust, his cock slips past her lips and so deep down her throat she doesn’t have time to gag. She gurgles, and he slams in again, and again, and a third time, and then his hips are pumping, and her feet are drumming against the mattress, and his grip on her hair tightens until he’s shoving her head into each thrust. 

The sloppy, wet glide of his cock burrowing down her throat fills the quiet motel room, and at some point she chokes, and Daddy withdraws, but only for a second, only long enough to catch a glimpse of her reddened eyes, her swollen lips, the drool smeared on her chin, and then he’s ramming home again, and this time when she chokes, he doesn’t stop—he goes faster. And now both hands are on the back of her head, guiding her forward, pressing down when she tries to pull back, and she gasps and gurgles, and Daddy’s groaning with such volume she thinks maybe the walls are shaking, maybe the building is about to fall down on top of them, and even if the walls crumble and the ceiling cracks, Daddy will still be thrusting into her mouth with a desperate, vicious need. 

And just as the corners of her vision begin to dim, just as the wet rasp of her choking fades to a low hum and black spots swarm her eyes, Daddy throws his head back and bellows, and a great gush of his steaming seed pours down her throat, and she swallows reflexively, again and again, keeping up with the flow until it tapers to a dribble. Still, Rey sucks, even with his cock jammed so deep it might as well be in her stomach—she licks up his shaft, nuzzling his lower belly with her nose, breathing in the cloying scent of his arousal. She licks until Daddy shudders and loosens his hold on her head, and only when his fingers untangle from her hair does she realize the crown of her head is sore to the touch.

And still, she licks, making desperate, mewling little noises to appease him. 

“Thank you, Daddy” she gasps, swirling her tongue over the blunt tip. “Oh, th-thank you— _thank_ you, Daddy.” 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, breathing heavily. He tenderly tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Good girl, Rey. Lick Daddy clean.”

Eventually, after she’s licked him from base to head, after he’s grown hard as a rock again, Rey sits up on her knees. She immediately loses her balance, and Daddy laughs when she clumsily falls to the side. She must’ve cum too at some point because there’s a tell-tale stickiness between her legs. 

“And what’s this?” 

Of course he notices. 

Daddy lifts one of her legs by the ankle, exposing her wet pussy. She doesn’t try to shy away. Instead, she spreads her other leg, widening the space between her thighs so he has a clear, unobstructed view. 

“I’m all wet,” she pouts, fingers stroking the mussed bedcovers. 

Daddy sighs and shakes his head. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

Rey screws up her face, pretending to be upset. Her eyes are already red and swollen, which adds to the effect. “Can you make it clean again? Please?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, but he releases her ankle and steps back with a sorrowful look. “I’m not sure I’m the right man for the job, baby.” 

“Why not?” she demands, startled by his refusal. Irritation simmers just beneath her skin like a thin layer of heat. 

“Well—” he starts, reaching for her calf, but she kicks her foot. She must catch him by surprise, because it connects with his wrist. 

“If you don’t want me, just say so.” Rey scoots back on the bed, leaving a slick trail of cum in her wake, and draws her knees up to her chest. She’s pouting, and there are real tears in her eyes, but her nerves are on fire with anticipation.

This is another game they play with each other. 

Refusing, resisting, rejecting. Sometimes it’s Daddy, but more often it’s Rey. She enjoys spurning him, and he enjoys convincing her to take him back. He’s _very_ persuasive. 

Sure enough, Daddy’s eyes darken. He grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks it over his head. She’s momentarily distracted by the planes of his chest, the broad width of his massive shoulders, and the thin line of hair pointing like an arrow to what waits beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

Rey licks her lips and returns her attention to his face, but Daddy’s seen her admiration and wears a smirk. 

“See something you like, baby?” he asks in a low voice. 

She shakes her head primly and angles away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him tuck his cock back inside his briefs and readjust his jeans on his hips. But he doesn’t zipper them up, doesn't seal it away, and she nearly breaks out into a smile. 

But that would give away her very slim advantage, so instead she huffs and crosses her arms. 

“Re-ey,” he cajoles softly, placing one knee on the bed. “Why don’t you come a little closer.”

“ _No,_ ” she snaps, and scoots back some more. But Daddy follows, prowling across the mattress like a lion on the hunt. Trying to distract him, she blurts, “W-what time is it?”

“...Does it matter?”

“I’ll be late for school.” She pushes her lower lip out, acting like this is an extraordinary inconvenience. As if she’s not already late for school four times a week. Soon, she surmises, it’ll be all five days. 

“Don’t you want to stay here with Daddy?” He’s close now, close enough for his fingers to graze her knees. She shivers despite herself, and his eyes go completely black. 

“No,” she says again, jaw clenched mulishly. “I don’t.”

Smirking, he clamps a hand on her ankle and, with an abrupt jerk of his arm, drags her across the bed. Rey squeals and kicks. Shoving aside her knees, he lies flat on the mattress between her open legs and rests his chin on her lower belly.

“I thought you wanted Daddy to make you clean.” His brow furrows with faux confusion. 

“You said _no_ ,” she reminds him, wiggling futilely on the mattress like a bug flipped on its shell. “You don’t want to, and I’m not going to _make_ you—”

“Oh, hush,” he demands, and licks a broad, wet stripe up her creamy slit. She yelps and twists, but he has his arms hooked under her legs, and there’s nowhere she can go to escape. “Mm. How does that feel?”

Rey gasps, breasts heaving, and stares at the ceiling. Maybe it’s too early, but she—she’s _definitely_ on the verge of another orgasm. Gosh, he’s _so_ good at this. 

“Baby girl?” He licks her again, feigning concern. “Rey? Tell me how it feels.”

“I—I’m— It feels—”

Daddy flicks his tongue over her swollen little nub, and her spine arches off the bed. White sparks fly across her vision.

“I—I—"

“Your pussy is so pink and puffy for Daddy,” he coos, licking lazily through her folds. “How pretty.”

She gasps soundlessly. Her fingers twist the bedsheets into knots, and she rolls her hips against Daddy’s mouth. Everything is suddenly too sharp—the yellow light from the wall sconces, the scratchy feel of the comforter on her skin, the sweep of his tongue on her clit, the musky aroma of sex in the air. She whines and writhes, trying to stave off the orgasm as it grows more intense, more uncontainable.

Daddy lays a palm flat on her belly and sucks on her clit. He ignores her wild sob and adjusts her thighs so they’re clamped around his head. The friction is _unbearable,_ and she cries his name.

“None of that.” He slaps the outside of her thigh. “There’s no Ben here, baby. Just Daddy.”

“Don’t—don’t—” Her hips jerk against his rolling tongue. 

“Hey now,” he murmurs between licks. His chin drips with her arousal. She doesn’t think she’s ever been wetter. “You’re not supposed to cum, baby. How is Daddy going to make you clean when—” His finger suddenly probes her asshole, and she screams and cums. 

She fades away for a while, floating, disconnected, and when she finally jolts back to reality, she finds Daddy still between her legs, his mouth covering her pussy. He’s suckling her folds, his tongue lapping up her cream, and she rests her head back on the mattress with a tortured groan. He’s going to drive her mad. 

“There she is,” he croons, lightly tapping her belly. “You’re making quite a mess today.” 

“ _Daddy,_ ” she moans, senseless with pleasure. “Daddy—too much—”

He growls against her pussy, the vibration sending shockwaves through her entire body, and just as she slides her fingers through his hair to guide him back to her clit, the motel door swings open—

And Poe Dameron strides into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **i live in mortal terror that i will one day wake up and realize i did not write enough daddy kink**


	2. wedodumbsh!t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poe: 👁👄👁🍿

Poe shuts the door and saunters across the room, adjusting the glittering silver watch on his wrist. In the yellow glow of the Motel 6’s lamp lights, his sleek suit and leather loafers look garish and almost _too_ clean. 

Rey sighs, admiring his lean body, the straight lines of his cleanshaven jaw. Mister Superintendent of Schools has always been a man to dress his sharpest for special occasions. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Poe tells them, casting a quick glance around the room. “There was a crash on the 401.”

The words filter through one ear and out of the other, senseless. Daddy eyes Poe up and down, grunts, and resumes licking Rey’s pussy. She smiles dreamily and wiggles her fingers in Poe’s direction. He offers her a slight smile in return, gaze drawn up and down her naked body.

“You couldn’t wait?” he asks mildly, rolling back his suit cuffs. A fine layer of dark hair covers his forearms, and Rey's mouth waters at the sight. 

“Haven’t fucked her yet,” Daddy says, nudging her clit with his nose. She whines and rolls her hips, impatient to feel him inside her again, and he shushes her and laps up the cum slicking her inner thighs. Her eyelids flutter closed. Nice. That feels so _nice._

“Well, in that case.” Poe slumps down in one of the wooden chairs by the room’s small kitchen table and cranes his neck to either side. The muscles ripple and crack, and Rey giggles breathlessly. He winks. “Take your time, then.”

They do. Between Daddy’s long, gushy licks and Rey’s soft sighs, the only sound in the room is the low rattle of the radiator and, beyond the windows, the rumble of distant, early morning traffic. Her mind drifts, and she wonders absently what time it is. Daddy always leaves both their phones in a drawer because he doesn’t want distractions, and before they got started, he turned the digital clock around so it faced the wall. 

_It must be first period by now,_ she thinks hazily, running her fingers through Daddy’s silky hair. _Honors English. We’re reading_ Slaughterhouse-Five _this month._

But her absences never count. Poe takes care of that for her. 

Daddy flicks his tongue on her clit one last time, and she moans and arches her neck. Her body’s so sensitive, so attuned to him—Daddy’s an expert at pleasuring without overstimulating. They’ve gotten in a lot of practice, after all. 

He rises over her then, kissing her hips and belly and the pebbled points of her nipples before finally settling his mouth on hers. She tastes herself on his tongue and whimpers. They fall into each other, as easily as if it’s the first time, or fifth, or tenth. They’re not keeping track, and why should they? There's no expiration date. Daddy promised forever, and she always takes him at his word. 

Cradling her face, he murmurs, “You’ve been so good for me today, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you,” she whispers back, wrapping her legs around his waist. His crotch rubs against her thigh, and she wiggles closer. In the corner, Poe swallows loudly. "Love you, love you, Daddy."

He groans and sweeps his tongue through her mouth. They kiss and cuddle and murmur nonsense to each other, forgetting all about school and work and Mom. They even temporarily forget about the man on the other side of the room, the man who’s watching them with intense, undivided concentration. 

Daddy leans back on his knees, and she peeks around his broad frame. Sure enough, Poe’s slumped back in the chair, his eyes flicking avidly between her face and her open legs. He licks his lips and adjusts himself. When he catches her watching, a slow smile spreads over his mouth, and he leaves his hand dangling by his crotch. A slow-burning heat coils in her lower belly—she likes being the center of attention. She likes knowing he can look but not touch. 

“Eyes on me, baby.” Daddy lifts her chin with a finger, guiding her attention back to him. His jaw is clenched, nostrils flared. 

_Jealousy._ The word tears through her, and Rey bites her to lip to keep back a moan. 

She blinks up at him with wide, innocent eyes. He’ll lose it if she keeps looking at the man in the corner. It's fun to tease him, but only so far. That’s another aspect she loves—that she can drive Daddy crazy simply by making eye contact with Poe. 

Sometimes the line is tricky, and she'll cross it by accident. 

Like last week, when she came while staring at Poe. Daddy was so furious about it he refused to touch her for the rest of the day. With little care who might be watching, he shoved Poe out of the motel room and barked at her to get dressed. He forced her to go to school even though it was already fourth period, and he avoided her texts all day. 

Only when she cried and snuggled next to him on the couch that night did he finally relent, petting her head as she sloppily blew him under Mom’s green sherpa blanket. He came in her mouth and then offered to get her a plate of homemade spaghetti. 

“As long as it’s not Ragu!” she told him, wiping cum off her chin before Mom noticed.

Now, Daddy maintains eye contact as he peels off his jeans and black briefs. There are scars on his thighs from his days as a dealer, and a puckered wound from where a bullet nicked him during a city-wide gang war back in the 90s. Her throat goes dry at all the damage, and she remembers a conversation from years ago before she fully understood what it really meant to be a drug dealer.

“Your Daddy was a dangerous man back in the day.” Mom, in leggings and a workout bra, winked at Rey and ignored his displeased look. “He was caught up in a lot of things he shouldn’t have been.” 

“Why?” Eleven-year-old Rey set down her orange crayon and gave her full attention to her mother. This was _much_ more interesting than coloring in Princess Rapunzel's dress.

“That’s enough—”

But Mom swatted his concerns aside. “He had a rough childhood, sweetie. Grandma Leia and Grandpa Han weren’t around very much, and Daddy got involved with some bad people.”

Rey cast a nervous look at her father. “Are you still friends with the bad people?”

Daddy, with a hard glance at her mother, scooped Rey up into his arms, even though she was far too big for that now. Over her head, he hissed, “Stop it. You’re scaring her.” To Rey: “You don’t have to worry, baby girl. That was a long, long time ago.”

She clasped her hands on the back of his neck and pursed her lips. “You have lots of scratches and stuff though. What if—”

But Daddy kissed her cheek. “That’s all in the past. Don’t be scared, okay?” Her mouth twisted, dissatisfied, and he hugged her tight, whispering, “I’m not dangerous, baby, especially not to you.” 

_Especially not to me?_ The words confused her, but Rey wasn’t sure what to do about it. So instead, she smiled and said, “Well, okay. I love you anyway.”

And that was that.

Watching her face, Daddy licks the pad of his thumb and presses it to her clit. Her breath leaves her in a rush, and she raises her hips. But he pushes down on her knees, shaking his head. “What did I say? Stay _still._ ” 

She really doesn’t want to be spanked again, so Rey lets her legs go limp. Maybe another time she'd put up more of a resistence, but she's achy and aware of Poe's gaze. Disobediant girls rarely get to cum. 

Satisfied by her cooperation, Daddy plays with her clit, which is so swollen and sensitive from his previous ministrations that it’s all she can do to keep her whimpers trapped behind her teeth. Her toes curl and uncurl, and she focuses on a water spot on the ceiling. 

“Not yet,” Daddy warns, staring at her heaving breasts. He lightly slaps her cunt, and she squeaks in surprise. 

“Not _again,_ you mean,” Poe interjects with a soft chuckle. 

“ _Quiet,_ ” Daddy snaps without breaking eye contact with Rey, and the other man obediently falls silent. 

Rey withholds a smile. The three of them have a mutual understanding in regards to their...situation. She's listened to many of their conversations these past few months and learned that this whole arrangement came to be because of Poe. Which took her by surprise since Daddy was always so eager about it. 

He and Poe have been friends since childhood, and Poe's always been privy to his special...proclivities. Young, sweet, slightly resistant. At least, that's how they've always described Rey, even though she doesn't think she's ever been strictly _resistant_ to Daddy's advances. They always laugh when she protests, though, and it's definitely not _with_ her.

Evidently, before Rey was born, Daddy would spend hours at night fantasizing about a girl he could make his own, "in every sense of the word." He met Mom back in college, but they’re close in age, and she had several boyfriends before they met, so Daddy was always left vaguely unsatisfied. He wanted a young girl, a virgin. His urges grew worse and worse, nearly unmanageable, until he finally ended up getting Mom pregnant. 

Rey was an accident, but a welcome one. She provided Daddy with a distraction. From the moment she was born, he dedicated himself to her care. Things were good for a while. Only when she hit puberty did Daddy finally relinquish all pretense—those urges never really went away. He only managed to temporarily stifle them for the sake of his family.

"But you were too tempting," Daddy said to her in the beginning. "A better man than I would've put up a fight, but...I've never pretended to be good, Rey." 

Not that Poe shares any of these sexual preferences. No, no, and "absolutely not," according to him. He has daughters of his own, but he’s made it rather clear that he would prefer to die by his own hand than touch either of them the way Daddy touches Rey. (The falling-on-the-sword schtick is just a _bit_ dramatic, but she supposes it gets the point across.) 

Maybe she should find his aversion insulting, but Daddy doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and she’s always taken her cues from him. Poe just likes to watch them sometimes, when his wife’s in a bad mood and he needs some relief. Well, watch _Rey,_ really—she hasn't missed the way he looks at her when Daddy's on top. Like Poe would like nothing more than to smother her, too. 

It probably shouldn't excite her as much as it does, but isn't that kind of the point? 

There are rules in place regarding their arrangement and what's allowed versus what's not, but the specifics are a bit hazy for Rey. She knows that when they’re all in the room together, Poe must do whatever Daddy says, whether that’s move to a different spot, shut his mouth, face the wall, or leave the room entirely. Non-negotiable. If Poe even attempts to circumvent these rules, Daddy will kick him out for good. The one time he suggested Daddy leave them alone together for an hour, Poe ended up leaving twenty minutes early with a black eye and a sprained thumb. 

There are more rules, too— _so many_ fucking rules—but ones only the two men know. “Secrets, secrets are no fun…” she likes to sing, teasing them both. Poe will crack a smile, and Daddy will kiss her forehead, but neither of them will relent. It really bugs Rey. No matter how much she whines or flutters her lashes, they stay firm in the decision to leave her out. 

Because he evidently has a death wish, Poe tentatively brought up sharing Rey after his other idea was so ruthlessly shot down. Both men know she’s willing to try it, but Daddy is very firmly against any man but him putting hands on her. In fact, he didn’t speak to Poe for a whole week after that suggestion—which, frankly, was an improvement—and Daddy spent so much time in her bedroom that even Mom mentioned it. 

“What’s the deal? Is her mattress more comfortable than ours?” It was a joke of course, so they all smiled, but Daddy was stiff and guarded, and Rey's pretty sure Mom sensed it. 

They were much more careful after that. 

“Look at those tiddies bounce,” Daddy says now to Poe, nostrils flaring. His thumb works furiously on her aching clit. “Loves when Daddy touches her sweet cunt, don't you, baby?”

Poe hums agreement from the corner, both hands down the front of his slacks. 

Finally, when Rey’s reduced to a shivery, trembling mess, he pulls his thumb away and licks the tip. His eyes blaze hungrily, and she spreads her legs, whining for him. 

“My little one is so impatient, isn’t she?” Daddy murmurs, settling between her open thighs. His big hands encircle her waist, the tips of his fingers meeting around her belly. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispers, lightly touching her breasts. Like her clit, they’re sore and sensitive, and it takes all her remaining willpower not to get herself off before he gives permission. 

He clucks his tongue and squeezes her waist. “No need to apologize, baby. It’s Daddy’s fault for spoiling you.” 

With a hard smile, he guides his cock through her folds, running his shaft up and down her slit until it’s coated with her arousal. 

“ _Oh,_ ” she sighs, jaw going slack. “Oh, please put it in me, _please—_ ”

“No condom,” Poe reminds them in a strained voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hand pumping swiftly up and down his shaft. She’s seen Poe’s cock up close before, several times, actually, when he masturbated over the bed—it’s thick, but not as big or as long as Daddy’s. 

“No condom,” Daddy repeats to Rey, and he drops his head for a hard kiss.

Like a responsible adult, Daddy made sure to wear a condom every time they were together. This lasted for several weeks. But then one evening when Mom was out with her friends, when Daddy was desperate to get her alone after a bad argument with his boss, they sort of forgot. Or maybe they didn't. Rey's still not sure if it was an accident or not. Daddy seemed awfully excited about it.

By the time they realized the Trojan box was completely empty, he was already balls deep and rutting into her like a rabid beast. There was no stopping him, not even when Rey pushed at his chest and scratched his neck. She bit him, and he bit her back. 

It only took one night to change her mind. After they both experienced that lack of a barrier, that raw skin-to-skin friction... Well, there was no going back. 

They're careful, though. Daddy’s always mindful of her menstrual cycle, and he checks once a week for signs of pregnancy—nausea, breast tenderness, mood swings, aversions to specific foods, and so on. Rey has tried to tell him that these signs only start to show _after_ a missed period, but he’s vigilant about it anyway. She's found there's no reasoning with him when it comes to this stuff. 

Rey also suspects he’s secretly terrified that if she gets pregnant, Mom will discover what they’re doing and separate them. Divorce, restraining orders, jail time. The whole deal. 

Daddy doesn't seem concerned about that now as he positions his cock at her entrance and slowly eases his way inside. She clenches her teeth and breathes in through her nose as he fills her, their eyes locked. He carefully settles on top of her, his lips pressing to the sweaty skin of her forehead, cheeks, throat. This is always the most difficult part for her, the gradual expansion of her small hole to accommodate him. 

“Almost there,” he whispers soothingly, capturing her gasp with his mouth. “You’re being so good for me, Rey.” 

She hisses through her teeth as he seats himself to the hilt. He bends and puts his forehead to her neck, rolling his hips to sink deep. Her nails dig into his broad shoulders, hard enough to break skin, but he never minds the blood. In fact, Daddy likes it messy, and he often encourages her to drag her nails down his back and arms. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, thrusting slowly. She cries out, her entire body tingling, and he sighs and kisses her again. “Let me stay here forever, baby. Can I? All snug in this pussy.”

Rey moans through her teeth. “Y-yes, please.”

“Christ.” His hips roll as he thrusts, and her legs wrap around his waist again, heels digging into the backs of his thick thighs for purchase. She pushes him forward, bowing off the bed to take him in. 

They join, again and again, slow and quiet, Rey’s moans and whimpers interspersed with his soft reassurances. In the corner of the room, nearly forgotten, Poe groans and jerks himself off to the mingled sounds of their pleasure. 

“Look how your pussy sucks me in,” Daddy rasps, ducking his head to watch their hips meet. “Greedy, greedy girl.”

“Oh, Daddy,” she croons, caressing his bunched arm muscles, “it’s so big, Daddy, so—” Her breath catches on another moan, but she keeps going because he loves when she strokes his ego. “Feels _so_ good. You have—such a—huge cock, Daddy. So _big—_ ” 

He spits a low _fuck_ into her shoulder, and this time when he thrusts back in, there’s no tenderness, no care. Pummeling her into the mattress, Daddy clamps a calloused hand around her throat and drives into her pussy, snarling a stream of curses. 

“Make me work for it, don’t you, slut— Make me work for this pussy. Fuck, _fuck_ —“ He hunches his shoulders and pumps and pumps, so vicious and controlled she’s jostled up the bed into the pillows. “Tight—god, so fucking tight around my dick—“ 

She sobs and claws wildly at the sheets, his arms, the sheets again. The feel of him sliding back and forth inside of her—it’s intense. Too intense. He’s going to drive her to the brink of madness if he keeps this up. 

“That’s it,” Daddy encourages as she jerks her hips, clumsily meeting his thrusts. “That’s it, Rey. God _damn._ Look at you go.” 

“ _Da-ddy,_ ” she whines, drawing out his name on a moan. The bed springs squeak and squeal every time he strokes down. “ _Harder._ ” 

He laughs breathlessly. “You hear that? Fuck.” Rey releases a short scream as he nudges her clit, and the slap of his balls hitting her sweaty flesh nearly overrides his next words. “You see how well she takes my cock, Dameron? You see how she cries for Daddy?” 

“Christ, Ben.” Poe’s voice is hoarse, tinged with longing, and she cracks open an eye. He’s staring at them, drinking in the sight of Daddy’s cock disappearing inside her hole, the sway and bounce of her breasts, the way the bed shakes and rattles in its frame. Poe’s eyes are glazed, and his hand works frantically between his legs. 

She quickly looks away before Daddy notices. The hand on her throat tightens, and she lets out a startled squeal like a mouse caught in a trap. He scoops her hips off the bed and drives into her so hard her toes and fingers go numb. 

“Only cock—you’ll ever cum on,” he pants, sucking on the bud of one nipple. “No boyfriends. No husband. Just your daddy.”

Poe makes a choked noise. He’s only a blurry form on the far side of the room, but his shoulders are hunched, and his hooded eyes are fixed on them. He’s cumming, and Rey's body writhes in response. 

“Don’t cum in me,” she gasps, wide-eyed, nerve-endings on fire. One last game. “Daddy, don’t— _please_ don’t cum in me—”

He pries her jaw open and spits in her mouth, then waits until she swallows to growl, “You don’t tell me what to do. Little brat thinks—I give a fuck—”

Tears course down her cheeks. “No, Daddy—no, no, _please_ —I can’t—”

“You _can,_ ” he insists gruffly, muscles trembling. He’s on the edge of his climax. “Gonna fill you up. Little girl's gonna take Daddy’s cock and _beg_ for more—”

“ _No!_ ” she screams shrilly, even as her orgasm expands through her body and sets her to shaking. “No, Daddy— _please_ —no babies, c-can’t have a baby—” 

With a roar, Daddy buries himself deep inside her pussy and releases a flood of cum. She jerks and thrashes on the bed, screams mixed with sobs of relief as she cums too. They’re both lost in each other—mouths crashing, tongues meeting, fingers tangling. The rest of the world whites out, and it’s just the two of them, wrapped together, sweat-slicked bodies joined and molded like clay. Interchangeable. 

“ _Please,_ ” she’s whispering mindlessly, “please—please—”

And Daddy’s murmuring, “I know, baby, I know, I love you,” over and over until the words lose their meaning. They’re so caught up in their own little world, neither of them notices Poe until he’s suddenly standing by the side of the bed, inches away. His drooling cock brushes Rey’s cheek, the head red and shiny. 

Daddy snaps. 

“ _Back up,_ ” he barks, planting a hand on Poe’s chest and shoving with all his strength. His muscles are bunched, body poised protectively over Rey. 

Poe stumbles into the wall and throws up his hands, wincing. “Sorry! Jesus—I—I wasn’t gonna touch her, Ben.” 

“Stay the _fuck_ away from my daughter,” he warns through gritted teeth. “You don’t come near her, _ever._ ”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Poe cautiously steps back until he’s at the table again, his stiff cock bobbing up near his belly. “I’m—I got caught up in—” He shakes his head, red-faced. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Ben.” 

Rey, startled by this sudden change in mood, hugs him tight and buries her face in his neck. His limp cock is still inside her, so she clamps her thighs around it and milks him, hungry for his attention. Her hips roll, and Daddy’s eyes glaze over. 

“Don’t—come near her—” he manages, already kissing Rey’s neck, and Poe slumps gratefully back into his chair, sensing the worst is over. There will be no black eyes or broken bones today. 

Without warning, Daddy flips her over and mounts her from behind. He slaps her ass with the flat of his palm, and she shudders. _Ouch._ Her head bobs with each rough thrust, and she shrieks and cries and whines for more, and he gives it to her—everything she asks for, he gives it. They both cum again, Rey on her hands and knees, screaming his name. 

_Daddy._ The room vibrates with it. 

She collapses on the mattress, gasping and shaking, but Daddy grips her hips to slip inside her again, ignoring her feeble protests. With a groan, he sets a new pace—slower now, but stroking just as deep. Her orgasms hit her one after the other, and at one point she blacks out, overstimulated and too exhausted to keep her eyes open. 

When she wakes up, vision blurry and unreliable, Daddy’s rocking her against his chest, cooing softly. He breathes a sigh of relief when she wiggles impatiently, annoyed by his too-tight grip, but they’re still joined, and he immediately picks up where they left off, slamming into her from behind. 

" _No,_ " she sobs, drooling on the sheets, but he doesn't listen. She's so tired she simply lies there and cums on command when he bites her throat. Some time later, he slumps to the mattress, dragging her into his arms, pawing at her breasts, mouth frantic on her own. Kissing and grinding and biting, frantic, senseless, until they’re both limp. 

The room falls silent. They fade in and out of sleep, kissing tenderly and sighing into each other’s mouths, until Poe politely clears his throat. 

Daddy rubs his eyes and grunts. Rey nuzzles deeper into his embrace, surrounded by pillows and a mountain of bed covers he's piled on them both. She’s warm and satisfied and happy. _Stay here forever,_ she thinks fuzzily. _Stay right here._

“See me out?” Poe nods at the door. He’s fully dressed again—cuffs unrolled, slacks zipped, tie straight and tight around his neck. But his cheeks are still faintly flushed, and he seems captivated by Rey, who’s tucked inside the sheets, half-asleep, her body hidden from view. 

Daddy disentangles himself from her embrace, hushing her gently when she cries for him. She rolls to her side with a small grunt, her head cushioned in the small stack of motel pillows. But she opens an eye to watch Daddy slide into his jeans and walk Poe to the door. She listens with half an ear as they say their goodbyes. 

“Thanks again, man.”

Daddy sounds smug. “Hey, anytime. You know that.”

A brief pause. “Same time tomorrow, then?”

“Ah.” She imagines Daddy scratching the back of his neck and offering Poe a sheepish smile. “Rey has a math test in the morning, but after lunch—"

“I’ll move my schedule around.” Poe lowers his voice. “Is your wife really okay with Rey missing so much school?” 

“She, ah, doesn’t know.” Daddy’s voice is rough now. “I rerouted all the calls and emails to my phone. Before you intervened.”

“Ah. I see.” A weighted pause. “So she still—?” 

“No,” Daddy says sharply. 

Poe sighs—it sounds like disappointment. “Ben. Listen, I understand, I do, but…you need to do something before she—”

“I’m well aware,” he interrupts in a hard voice. “Rey and I will figure it out.”

“ _Rey,_ ” Poe emphasizes patiently, “is a child. You need to either tell your wife what’s going on or stop this before you get her—”

Daddy breathes harshly through his nose. “That’s not going to happen. We’ve been careful—” 

Poe laughs sharply. The noise wrests Rey from sleep, and she blinks at the sunlight spilling across the room. “Oh, sure, I can see that. No condoms for, what, three weeks now? Not to mention you’ve been telling her how _badly_ you wish she was pregnant every five fucking minutes. Don't get me wrong, it's fucking hot. But c'mon. _That’s_ your definition of careful, Solo?” 

Daddy hisses through his teeth, obviously upset. “She’s not going to get— I’m not going to— That’s—“ He pauses and continues in a calmer voice. “She’s too young for any of that.” 

Poe snorts derisively. “Then use a fucking condom next time.”

They must share a look, or a gesture, or something only understood between two people who have been friends for over three decades. When Poe murmurs, “I know,” and Daddy sighs, it’s like a whole conversation takes place. 

Rey twitches but doesn’t dare move. She doesn’t want to miss a second. 

“Who would you pick?” Poe asks suddenly, his voice so low she has to really concentrate to make out the words.

“Pick?” Daddy suddenly sounds uncomfortable. 

Poe must notice it too. “Don’t play games with me, Solo. You know exactly what I mean—”

“Dameron, c’mon. This is ridiculous—”

“If you had to choose,” Poe says slowly, relentless, “right this second, who would you pick?” 

“You can’t ask me that—”

“Rey or the wife? Who would it be?” Poe’s not giving up, and she hears it in his voice--he doesn’t really care if it’s causing Daddy distress. “Pick one, let the other go.”

“Fuck off—”

“ _You have to pick._ Who is it, Solo? You get one pussy to fuck now until death. Who—”

There’s an abrupt, weighty silence. 

“Go back to bed.” Poe sounds weary, and she catches the light jangle of car keys. He drives a Tesla. Like a total douchebag. “I’ll change her attendance record for today.” 

Daddy lowers his voice, and for a minute or two the conversation is lost. Her eyes drift closed again, and she snuggles deeper into the pillows, wishing for his solid warmth. These days she has trouble falling asleep if he doesn’t kiss her goodnight first. She draws the sheets up to her chin and whimpers. 

The conversation pauses, and Daddy murmurs, “If there’s nothing else—”

“Actually…” Poe interrupts, his voice strained. 

A second later Daddy's heavy footsteps pad across the room, and he opens a desk drawer. There’s the sound of rustling fabric, and then suddenly he’s leaning one knee on the bed, bending down to Rey.

“Hey, baby girl,” he whispers, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Can you open up for me?”

She obediently spreads her legs, and Daddy’s other hand dips between them. She feels soft cotton pressing against her mound, and the thin fabric quickly soaks up the damp slickness on her thighs and folds. She mumbles and cracks open an eye. 

“Mm. Are those my panties?”

Daddy smiles and kisses her forehead. “Poe wants a souvenir.”

“ _Again?_ ” She wrinkles her nose and shoves her face into a pillow. “He needs to bring back the other pairs. I’m gonna run out.” 

“He _is_ getting greedy, isn’t he?” Daddy speaks loudly enough for Poe to overhear. The other man simply scoffs. “Don't worry, okay? Daddy will buy you all new ones soon.”

“Victoria’s Secret?” she mumbles, already dozing. There’s no way she can go back to school now. She’ll fall asleep at her desk.

“Whatever you want.” He touches her cheek with his thumb before pulling away.

At the door, Poe mutters a thank you and departs. The door clicks shut behind him, and Daddy turns the locks. For a second or two there’s complete silence. Rey can feel him studying her again, but she’s too exhausted to preen. 

When Daddy joins her back in bed, she smiles and welcomes him with an extended hand, fingers grasping. “What were you and Poe talking about? It sounded—” She pauses dramatically, tickling his broad chest. “ _—dramatic._ ” 

He kisses the tip of her nose and says simply, “I love you.” 

“I know.” She kisses him hungrily, and he plays with her nipples until they both fall asleep. 

In her dreams, she relives the morning in graphic detail. Except this time, instead of Poe, it's Mom watching them from the shadowed corner. Her wrists are tied, there's a thick gag in her mouth, and her eyes bulge from her head. 

Rey sighs and lives it again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **so I added more sue me**


	3. s-a-v-a-g-e

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **so many words, so little plot** 😬

The aisle's empty, and Rey’s fingers trail lightly over the neat row of L’Oreal concealers. They range in color from ghost white to honey-hued, and beneath is another line of darker shades with names like mahogany and pinenut. Twenty dollars each. 

She bites her lip and glances over her shoulder. There’s only one bored employee by the register—a second pimple-faced teenager just left for break. If she’s careful, if she angles herself just right, she can slip a few into her tote, and no one will be the wiser. 

Her index finger taps the lid of a concealer—the shade’s _cedar_. It’s too dark for her own skin, but it matches Rose pretty well. An idea occurs to her then. If she hands a few bottles out to her friend group, she could definitely earn some bestie points. Maybe she’ll get invited to the exclusive end-of-the-year party at Bazine’s McMansion. 

But Daddy’s face pops into her head, and Rey rolls her eyes to the ceiling on a groan. _Damn._ Why did she have to think about him _now_? Her fingers slip from the rack. 

Not worth it. _Absolutely_ not worth it. If Mom finds out she’s stealing again, it won’t be good. Early bedtime, no dessert, homework at the kitchen table. Standard punishments. If _Daddy_ finds out, it’ll be a nightmare. She probably won’t be able to sit down for a week. 

Reluctantly, she moves away from the L’Oreal concealers. Further down the aisle is what she’s really looking for—mascara. LA Colors is a cheap brand, thankfully, and their mascara is exactly the type Daddy loves best: thick, dark, and runny. As soon as her eyes well with tears, mascara spills down her cheeks in black streaks. 

Messy. Dirty. Perfect. 

She nabs two wands—they’re super cheap and therefore only last for, like, three weeks—and heads for the front counter, casting a longing glance at the L’Oreal section. Another time. 

A big man in dirty construction worker overalls glances at her as he walks in, then does a double-take. His eyes settle on her bare legs. A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she pulls self-consciously at her low-rider shorts. She told Mom they were _too_ low, but she insisted it’s what all the girls are wearing. As if Rey herself isn’t _one_ of those girls. 

“It’s practically underwear!” she complained this morning, fumbling with her uniform skirt. She needed something to wear underneath, but the miniscule patch of denim wasn’t what she had in mind. 

Mom simply waved a dismissive hand, eyes glued to her phone. “As long as they cover your bits, you’re good.” 

She was running late for school and didn’t have time to argue. Daddy had texted Poe the night before and told him to expect Rey in at a normal time and not to mess with her attendance. She couldn’t jeopardize that over a dumb pair of shorts, so she glared at her mother and let it go. The departing school bus was forced to slam on its brakes, and the driver gave her a disapproving scowl when she clambered up the steps, but she did make it. 

Now, Rey dumps her mascara on the counter and ignores the leering man. She senses him nearby, though, still examining her like he would a fresh cut of meat, and the back of her neck heats. There aren’t any mirrors around, but it sure feels like her ass cheeks are hanging out. _Ugh._ Everyone knows booty shorts are cheap. 

_Fuck you, Mom,_ she thinks furiously, slapping her wallet on the counter. Who even buys their daughter clothes like this? 

“Welcome to CVS. Do you have a—”

“ _No,_ ” Rey snaps, then winces guiltily. It’s not this dude’s fault her mother doesn’t have an appropriate fashion sense. “Um, I mean.” She coughs awkwardly. “I don’t have a card or anything. Sorry.” 

He rings her up with a raised eyebrow, not speaking, and as soon as she has hold of the plastic bag, she books it out of the store. With a vague feeling of unease, she throws a quick glance over her shoulder...and regrets it immediately. The man’s still looking at her from the candy aisle, giant Snickers bar in one hand. 

_I’m burning these shorts when we get home,_ she vows furiously. Humiliation colors her cheeks an alarming red. 

Mom’s parked at the curb, her manicured fingers tapping away at her phone. She just got her hair done too—blonde highlights to go with her dirty blonde hair. It’s Friday, which means Mom’s weekend is booked. Brunches, reunions, happy hours. You know, _girl time._ The phrase makes Rey want to gag. Mom values her girl time more than she values just about anything else, and Rey suspects that’s because she gets to show off her nice clothes. 

“Thirty-four and _still_ hot as hell,” Mom muttered to herself yesterday night. Rey had caught her preening in the full-length mirror attached to the master bath. Talk about embarrassing. At least close the door for that kind of thing, right? 

Rey throws herself into the white leather passenger seat of the Lexus and slams the door shut. A line of sweat rolls down her back. She really doesn’t like the way that man looked at her—something about it was invasive. Creepy. It makes her feel itchy, like she needs a shower. 

“ _Finally,_ ” Mom sighs, tossing her phone in the cup holder. “What were you doing in there?”

“I had to get the right kind,” she mumbles, fingers tight on the straps of her tote bag. She wiggles uncomfortably on the seat. When she sits down, the shorts ride even further up her thighs, indenting the skin. Too short, too goddamn _short._ If Mom hadn’t practically chased her out of the door the second she arrived home from school, maybe she would’ve had time to change into something less sleazy.

“LA Colors?” Mom says, peeking into the plastic bag. She snorts and taps the gas, flying away from the curb like a vetern Nascar driver. Rey absently reaches for the “oh shit” strap above the window. “Sweetie, you really need to do some research. That’s one of the worst brands. It’ll really fuck up your skin.” 

Rey shrugs and stares out at the passing scenery. What can she say? Certainly not _Daddy likes it when I cry and get all messy._ Or how about _Well, Daddy likes to smear it all over my face when he’s done fucking me._ Yeah, that will go over well. 

“I’m not into makeup, Mom.”

“That’s pretty clear.”

Rey throws her a sharp look, but Mom’s not paying her any bit of attention. She’s fiddling with the stereo. A song by The Weeknd comes on, and Rey opens her mouth, but Mom flicks to the next station and exclaims, “Oh, I _love_ this one!”

Camila Cabello. Rey rolls her eyes. Of course. 

She thinks back to last week. After Poe left them at the motel, she and Daddy took a two-hour nap. By the time they rose and got dressed again, it was noon and she was _starving._ They stopped to eat at a diner on Broad Street because she wanted pancakes and bacon, and Daddy dropped her off at home before heading in for a half day at work. 

It was one of the rare weeks that Mom was busy as a part-time florist’s assistant—Mother’s Day is right around the corner—so Rey had the house to herself for a few hours. She took another shower and cleaned out her underwear drawer. Only eight pairs left, even with the new additions from Victoria’s Secret. She used to have a solid dozen, but since Poe kept taking them, her supply was ever dwindling. 

With an irritated sigh, she snapped a picture. 

Wed 1:48 PM

**next week pls??**

Daddy answered immediately.

****

**New undies?**

👀

****

**We’ll go Saturday.**

**ty daddy** 💕

😎

She giggled. He was still figuring out emojis.

The first few bars of Harry Styles’ “Adore Me” breaks into her reverie. Rey frowns at her mother as she juggles her phone, a Starbucks frappuccino, and the wheel.

“Amilyn,” Mom mouths apologetically. Bringing the phone to her ear, she chirps, “Hey, girl! What’s going on? I was just thinking—”

Rey tunes her out. Mom has so many friends that keeping track is a useless endeavor. Although _Amilyn_ sounds familiar. Is that—? No. She bites her lip, thinking. Poe’s wife? Or is her name Ashlyn? Definitely something with an A. 

Well, whatever. Mom seems blissfully carefree, and that’s all that really matters. 

From the very beginning, Rey’s been more _his_ daughter than Mom’s. They had playtime and storytime together, and as she got older he would help her with her homework or distract her during particularly stressful exam times. Mom would just shake her head at their antics—there was no jealousy, no boundaries, no secrets. It was just Daddy and Mom and Rey. The Solos, party of three. 

But then things changed—rapidly. Suddenly, she was thirteen. Suddenly, she grew boobs. Small ones, apples instead of melons, but actual, fleshy _boobs._ Suddenly, she needed to wear bras. Suddenly, boys were looking at her funny. Suddenly, she ached between the legs, and at night her fingers would drift low...and lower...and lowest. Curious, seeking. Tentative, then desperate. She would imagine Finn Jones’ face. Sometimes Mitaka Orlov. Even Mr. Wexley, her gym teacher. 

Suddenly, one day, she rose from the kitchen table and found blood on the seat of her chair. 

Cue meltdown.

It was Daddy who gave her the sex talk. He seemed anxious about it—more anxious than she and Mom combined. His nerves calmed hers, and when he said words like _penis_ and _penetration_ and _vagina_ and the dreaded s-word, _sex,_ she giggled but nodded. Because it was funny—of course it was, she was thirteen—but it was also serious, and even then she could recognize that. 

“Condoms,” Daddy stressed, a pained expression on his handsome face. “Always, _always_ use a condom.” 

After the sex talk, things changed. Slowly, subtly, but change they did, in a way that was so subtle it was nearly unnoticeable. 

“Oh.” Mom’s tone changes, and she casts a furtive look at Rey, who pretends she doesn’t notice. They roll to a stop at an intersection a second before it switches to green. They start to merge onto the expressway. “What do you mean?”

Mom nods slowly, then abruptly slams a hand on the horn. “ _Watch where you’re going, asshole!_ Sorry, Am. What were you saying?” 

Rey uses this distraction to switch to a different radio station. Cabello’s high-pitched whining is giving her a headache. Beethoven fills the car, and she leans back in her seat, rubbing her temples. Classical music is boring, but it apparently helps with anxiety. Or something. Rose told her that once, but she might be lying. She lied about a lot of things, like that fact that she didn’t have a crush on Finn when it turned out she was half in love with him. That's why Rey doesn't have a lot of close friends. More trouble than they're worth. 

Rey returns her attention to the window. It’s true that Daddy showered her with extra love when she hit puberty, but he never crossed boundaries. They still took walks in the park together. They still made macaroni and cheese in their big yellow pot. They still watched old episodes of _Drake & Josh_ and visited each other's islands in Animal Crossing. He still tucked her in at night with a kiss to the forehead and a promise to hug her awake the following morning. 

Then one day at the start of freshman year she walked into the living room after school and caught him watching porn on the gigantic flat screen. It was immediately obvious that the very naked, very vocal couple in the video were role-playing a dad and his daughter. But then she took one look at his face and understood: his timing wasn’t an accident. He knew _exactly_ what time she arrived home from school every day. 

And so things changed.

“That’s—” Mom laughs, but it’s a sharp sound. No humor in it. “I’m sure you have that wrong. I mean, Am—”

Rey flips down the passenger mirror and studies her round, freckled face. She peels an eyelash from her skin with a frown and pokes one cheek. She’s not wearing any makeup save a highlighting cream that makes her skin glow. Not be the girl who’s _not like other girls,_ but she’s always found eyeshadow and foundation too heavy. Like cake on her face—thick and greasy. Eyeliner makes her look like a raccoon, and lipstick at her age just means you’re trying too hard. 

“Amilyn.” Mom’s voice deepens. The Lexus jerks forward. “There has to be an explanation. I’m sure you have the wrong idea. It’s— Yes, I’m _positive._ ”

Rey frowns and unclicks her seatbelt as they pull into the driveway. She sounds serious all of a sudden, which is rare. Mom never takes anything seriously unless it affects her yoga sessions or strict dieting plan. If Amilyn is Poe’s wife, that means something could be wrong. Hopefully he’s okay. 

Of course, _Daddy_ might be happy if Poe stops showing up to the Motel 6, but she’s grown to like him. He tells smart jokes. Besides, Poe always marks her present in attendance. At this point, she’s probably stacked up at least thirty absences, but nobody would ever realize it, thanks to his intervention. 

Pointing at the front door—“I know,” Mom mouths with a grimace—she jumps out of the car, noticing the creepy van on the opposite side of the street. Might as well be a staple of the neighborhood by this point. There’s nothing particularly weird about it—the van’s shiny and clean, no graffiti or dents—but all the windows are tinted, and she swears she’s seen movement from within. It appeared about four months ago and, as far as she knows, hasn’t moved since. 

Daddy’s reassured her—multiple times now—that it belongs to the neighbors, that they use it for deliveries. For the small business they apparently run in their basement. But she’s always gotten the vague sense that there are people in there, watching, observing. Waiting for something? Whatever it is, whatever’s going on with the van, Rey does her best to avoid looking at it. Out of sight, out of mind.

In the house, she tosses her tote bag on the sofa and marches down the hall to the bathroom. Somebody left all the lights on again. Really, Mom? No wonder Daddy complains about the electric bill so much. 

She examines herself in the mirror above the sink, lips pursed. A tank top and shorts. Simple, right? It’s mid-May, and the temperatures are soaring by the day. This is a normal outfit. Nothing wrong with dressing for the weather. 

But her eyes trace the tightness of her top, the way the thin cotton molds to her breasts. Her shorts are hanging on her hips—she doesn’t like denim to be too clingy. They ride up her thighs, exposing creamy white skin that’s usually hidden from view except when she wears a bathing suit to the beach or a friend’s pool. 

She recalls the construction worker’s penetrating gaze and shudders. Okay, so maybe this outfit _isn’t_ normal. Too exposing. Too revealing. She’s bare in a way she’s never really noticed before. This feeling goes beyond the clothes. Mom always tosses her hair when she catches a man’s eye, despite her status as a married woman, but Rey doesn’t want attention from any other men. Just Daddy. That’s different. That’s _love._

This is something else.

Uneasy now, Rey walks stiffly from the bathroom. She’ll just go change. Maybe her black capri leggings are clean. She can wear those with a simple graphic tee. Twenty-One Pilots or Blink-182. Something old school. Familiar. Comfortable. Something safe. 

“ _Rey!_ Rey, where—” Mom rounds the corner and nearly crashes into her, the spoon in her hand narrowly missing Rey’s stomach.. They both startle backwards. “Jesus! There you are. I was looking for you.”

Rey swallows, thinking about the man’s face. The hunger. It’s stuck in her mind on a loop. “Uh, I was—”

Mom crooks a finger. “Come into the kitchen. I have to ask you something.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but Mom’s already turned her back. Begrudgingly, Rey follows. The kitchen smells like steaming noodles. 

“So Amilyn—” Mom begins, and Rey sighs heavily. Guess she doesn’t have a choice now. She knows that tone. It’s the “I have a story to tell and I’m going to tell it” tone. Her outfit switch will have to wait. 

“—thinks her husband's cheating on her.”

Rey, surreptitiously fiddling with the Twitter app, nearly drops her phone. “Uh, _what?_ ” 

Mom nods solemnly, stirring a pot of soy sauce. She seems pleased by Rey’s dramatic reaction. “That was her on the phone just now. She said Poe’s been acting strange lately. Coming and going at odd hours.” 

She collapses bonelessly into a kitchen chair. Her voice is faint when she asks, “What...did she say?” 

“Nothing, really,” Mom supplies unhelpfully. “It’s all just conjecture. Am has no proof. Personally, I think she’s losing it, but what do I know?” 

Rey swallows hard. This is… Well, she doesn’t know _what_ this is. Something she shouldn’t have to handle alone, that’s for sure. “Um.”

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Mom continues breezily. “Amilyn’s cried wolf before. Two years ago she claimed the same thing. Turns out Poe was working extra hours to give her a new car for Christmas. Remember the Accord? Yeah, _that_ one.” Then, absently, “I always thought orange was an ugly color for a car.”

“Mom.”

She blinks and gives Rey a sheepish look. “Oh. Right. Anyway, I told her she’s probably just overreacting. Poe’s a good guy.” Mom smiles brightly and gestures with her spoon. “Like your father!”

 _Fuck._ Rey spits out the water she’s just swallowed and coughs so hard her face turns an excited shade of purple. Concerned, Mom crosses the kitchen to thump her on the back. 

“Slow down, sweetie. You trying to drown yourself?” 

“...Can I go now?” she asks weakly, standing up from the table. Holy shit. She needed to get out of here, like, ten minutes ago. 

_Like your father._

She’s already texting Poe before Mom opens her mouth. Not that it matters since she simply shrugs and starts humming away at the stove. Her mother likely wouldn’t notice if a damn Mack truck burst through the front door unless it affected her routine in some way. Mom has a one-track mind, and nothing will allow her to deviate from it. 

In the living room, Rey sinks into the sofa, fingers trembling.

Fri 4:40

🆘 

Poe has a special ringtone for her messages—“Pretty Woman,” so definitely not suspicious—and he answers her text within thirty seconds.

****

**?**

****

**  
**

**bad news. real bad.**

****

**???**

****

**  
**

**its your wife. she thinks that**

Rey accidentally hits send and growls. Fucking touchy keyboard. She needs to upgrade. 

****

**What the hell?**

**sorry!! wasnt finished. Amilyn thinks ur cheating on her.**

No answer. Two minutes pass. Still no answer.

 **TOLD YOU IT WAS BAD!!**

Nothing. Maybe she's given him a heart attack or something. 

**Mom just got off the phone w Am. says it’s probably nothing. but…**

****

**But.**

****

****  


Rey breathes a quiet sigh of relief. So he _hasn't_ had a heart attack. It’s hard to tell with men his age. Thirty-five is right on the border of semi-old and just plain old. 

**what do we do?????**

This time his text comes quickly. 

****

**Don’t tell your father. Let me handle it.**

She’s not so sure that’s a good idea, but she can hardly tell him so. Outside of the bedroom, Poe never listens to her. Not even when she’s right, which is most of the time. If Daddy finds out they’re both keeping a secret from him… It won’t be pretty. 

**u sure? daddy will be upset** ☹️

****

**Ben will be fine. He’s a big boy.**

Rey smirks at the screen. _Well, it’s your funeral,_ she thinks cheerfully. 

But oh, she can’t _wait_ for Daddy to find out about this conversation. He’ll probably blacken Poe’s other eye. Which doesn’t bother her at all. In fact, she really likes when Daddy throws his weight around. He'll bunch those huge fists with a black expression that promises murder on his face, and his shoulders will be tight, his chin will be lifted arrogantly… Whew. Just thinking about it makes her wet between the legs. 

Her text is simple. 

**ok**

****

**Let me know if Am calls your mom again.**

**will do** 👍🏻

Apparently she’ll be keeping _two_ secrets from Daddy today. Not only will she not mention this whole drama with Amilyn, but she’ll have to hide this exchange with Poe too. Daddy always makes her show him their messages. She doesn’t think Daddy trusts Poe to be in contact with her outside his supervision. It’s kind of obnoxious—she’s pretty sure Poe isn’t the type of man to send her a dick pic. An unsolicited one, anyway. He might if she asked.

The thought temporarily distracts her. That’s actually a good idea. Make Poe send her a photo of his dick, then leave the message open for Daddy to find. He’ll be _so_ jealous. Imagining the consequences, the punishment, kindles a low heat in her belly. 

She wanders back into the kitchen, still wrapped up in her phone. Rose and Finn have made their relationship Instagram official, and Bazine Netal’s parents apparently gifted her a glittering pink Mercedes for her eighteenth birthday. Rey scoffs. _Way_ too gaudy. 

Mom suddenly swivels from the stove with a theatrical gasp. “Guess who’s home?” 

Rey blinks and realizes the front door is open. A warm breeze diffuses the smoke lingering near the kitchen ceiling. She swivels in her seat, phone forgotten in her hand. Heavy footsteps mark his passage through the foyer and dining room, and then Daddy comes into view. He has a dark five o’clock shadow on his cheeks, and his tie is askew. 

But as soon as his eyes find Rey, he brightens, and the kitchen fills with light. 

_Daddy’s home._

“Hey, baby!”

Then he’s coming towards her, arms extended. His coat drops to the floor, spilling across the kitchen threshold. Rey shoots to her feet and throws herself into his arms, squealing. He holds her tight to his chest, but even that’s not enough, and she’s yanked right off the ground, legs dangling. 

“You’re home!” she exclaims, eyes bright, fingers grasping his hair, his cheeks, his neck—just really hamming it up. Mom’s eyes are on them, and Rey finds a vicious sort of pleasure in capturing all of Daddy’s attention when she can only stand there and watch. _Mine. He's mine._

Her legs wind around his waist, and she clings to him so tightly she feels the hard planes of his chest through his dress shirt. He nuzzles her temple with his big nose, and she shrieks with laughter and rains kisses all over his face. Daddy loves it when she fusses over him, so of course she does her best to go all-out when there’s an opportunity. He appreciates excess affection, something he claims he never receives from Mom. 

She kisses his stubbled cheek, and Daddy pretends to stagger under her weight. “I only weigh ninety pounds!” she exclaims, slapping his shoulder. 

Across the kitchen, Mom wears a tight smile, wooden spoon dripping soy sauce on the clean white tiles. 

“You’re making a mess!” Rey chides, glaring at the offending object.

Mom sighs and hastily brings the spoon to the sink. “That was quite a welcome.”

Daddy shifts her to his hip, one big hand supporting her bottom. Her shorts ride up her thighs, exposing her plain green underwear. “She’s happy to see me.”

“So am I, Ben.” This comes out sharply, and Rey bites her lip to keep back a smile. “But you don’t see me climbing all over you.”

Rey rolls her eyes. Bitter much? 

“Don’t be like that,” he sighs, loosening his tie until it unwinds from his neck and falls limply at his side. She reaches for it and wraps it around her hand. “What’s for dinner?”

 _You could be a bit more subtle with the subject change, Dad,_ she thinks with a wince. 

“Dragon noodles,” she says, gesturing at the stove. “Homemade soy sauce.”

Daddy growls low in his throat. The sound sets off Rey’s libido, and she licks her lips, eyeing his neck. Just a little nibble, while Mom’s back is turned…

“Sounds yummy.” He tweaks Rey’s bottom, and she buries her face in his shoulder to suppress a squeal. “Let me get a shower first, and I’ll be right down.” 

He sets Rey on her feet despite her grumbling—guess she’s not joining him today—and picks his coat off the floor, flicking off a piece of dirt. Mom wipes her hands clean on a dish towel and, with an odd expression, walks slowly across the kitchen. 

“How was work?”

He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “Ah, the usual. No big issues today. Just half a dozen meetings in preparation for the new merger.”

She hums and saunters closer with a big smile. “Well, I’m glad you're home, too.”

When she moves in for a kiss, Rey shifts between them and wraps her arms around Daddy’s waist, bunching the back of his shirt in two tight fists. Her ear is right above his heart—it beats quickly, nervously. He catches Mom’s shoulder and allows her to kiss his cheek, then awkwardly moves away. 

“Wait for me in the living room, okay?” he murmurs, stroking Rey’s hair back from her forehead. She nods and lets him lead her to the sofa. With a soft kiss, he releases her, winking, and she beams happily back at him.

When he climbs the stairs to the second floor and disappears into the master bedroom, all the pleasantries between her and Mom get sucked away with him. The temperature in the house plunges. 

“You know, Rey,” Mom says loudly, slapping the dish towel on the kitchen counter. “I understand that you love Dad very, very much, but you’re not the only one.” 

She crosses her arms and stares at the blank TV screen. There’s a wall separating the kitchen from the living room, and if she tries hard enough, she can tune Mom out. 

“You have to share him,” Mom continues, tone blistering. A pot bangs on the counter. “It’s not right for you to get in the way like that.”

This stings, and Rey flinches. “I’m not in the way!”

An aggrieved sigh. “You know that’s not what I mean, sweetie. Dad loves us both, just in different ways.”

“That’s what you think,” she mutters, picking at a loose thread on her shorts. 

“It’s not fair of you to push me away.” Mom peeks around the wall wearing a small smile. “Let me love him, too.”

Rey doesn’t turn around. That’s the problem. Daddy _doesn’t_ love her, not enough, not anymore, and she’s tired of pretending otherwise. They’re no longer a party of three. 

_Go away,_ she thinks meanly. _Just go the fuck away._

When Daddy returns from his shower, freshly shaved and wearing a white tee with grey sweatpants, Rey’s managed to cool down. Somewhat. She still wants to bark like a pissed-off dog if Mom comes within ten feet of him, but she’s doing her best here. She beams a thought in Mom’s direction: **STAY IN THE KITCHEN.**

“Smells fantastic,” Daddy exclaims, wandering over to the sofa. He rests a hand on the back, and Rey tilts her head suspiciously. 

“Should be ready soon,” Mom promises from the kitchen. Something clatters in the sink. “Ten minutes!” 

“Excellent.”

Wordlessly, Daddy slips his fingers into her hair and yanks her head back. She gasps, and he crushes his mouth on hers, forcing his tongue past her lips. They wrestle for a long minute before Rey twists to the side, panting for air. 

“Don’t tell me,” he says through gritted teeth, voice low so Mom doesn’t overhear, “ _this_ is the outfit you wore to school today. Do not tell me that, Rey.”

“I‘m— It’s not!” she squeaks, staring at him from upside-down. The angle isn’t painful, but there’s already an uncomfortable crick in her neck. 

He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Are you lying to me?”

Rey’s not really sure what to tell him. She did wear it, but under her school uniform. _Dammit,_ she thinks, cursing silently. _Of course Mom had to drag me into her drama and screw me over._

“I wore my uniform,” she offers weakly. “It...covered everything?”

Daddy snakes a hand around her throat and grips tightly, thumb pressing into her windpipe. “Did it, now?”

“ _Yes,_ ” she gasps, scrambling up against the sofa back to alleviate some of the pressure. Daddy doesn’t care if she squirms a lot. He likes it when she fights.

“Hm.” He shoots a quick glance towards the kitchen. Mom’s humming a new Beiber song under her breath. The one where he bleats about how lonely he is? Her voice is very badly off-tune. 

“Oh, Rey. I’m very disappointed in you,” he murmurs, eyes forbidding. It’s a look that sets her trembling. “Walking around like a goddamn whore.”

Her patience frays. Sometimes he’ll get a little too mean when he’s playing, and she has to set him straight. 

“You’re being mean,” she rasps, shoving at his arm. His fingers tighten reflexively on her throat. “Go away! I don’t wanna kiss you anymore.” 

His features shift, but he still doesn’t relinquish his hold. “Those shorts leave very little to the imagination, Rey.” 

“Mom said they were okay!” she snaps, prying his fingers off one by one. 

“Oh?” He casts a dark look over his shoulder. “I’ll have to speak to her about that.” 

“ _Daddy,_ ” she whispers, fidgeting. “Let go!” 

“Get rid of those shorts,” he orders, staring down at her, face hard and unforgiving. 

“ _Fine!_ ” 

The second his hand slips from her neck, Rey shoots to her feet and scrambles out of reach. She massages her throat, scowling. Daddy leans both hands on the back of the sofa and meets her gaze, unsmiling. 

Now that she’s no longer at risk of _strangling_ to death, she offers him a vicious smile. “The man at CVS liked my shorts.”

Daddy goes very still. “What did you say?” 

“The _man,_ ” she drawls, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet, “at CVS. He was staring at my legs the whole time.” Well, for like two minutes, but Daddy doesn’t need to know the specifics. She can play unfair too. 

“ _Who?_ ” he growls, circling the sofa, hands flexing at his sides. She quickly side-steps behind the armchair. They’re keeping their voices low so Mom won’t overhear, but even from across the room she senses the depth of his rage. 

It makes her want to grin and dance up and down the hallway. 

But instead she shrugs, innocent as can be, and toys with a loose thread on her shorts. “I don’t know. He was dressed like a construction worker. Boots and stuff.” Then, for good measure, she whispers, “He was _big._ ” 

Daddy’s nostrils flare, and he prowls around the coffee table, every step deliberate. From the kitchen, Mom sings aloud to another annoying pop song. _“If the world was ending, you’d come over, right?”_

“I didn’t like him looking at me,” she continues softly, hiding behind the armchair—her own personal shield. The only obstacle holding Daddy at bay. “His face was dirty and mean, but he smiled at me. It...made me feel all tingly.”

His chest heaves, and he halts abruptly on the other side of the chair. They stare at each other, silent save for the sounds of cooking from the adjoining room. 

Rey touches the tip of her finger to her mouth and blinks. “What do you think, Daddy?” she whispers, maintaining eye contact when all she wants to do is cower under that furious glare. “Did he wanna fuck me?” 

He lunges, and she scrambles backward. Her feet tangle, and she stumbles, her head narrowly missing a floating bookshelf. Daddy snags her around the waist and drags her back, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries.

Pushing her face-first into the wall, he hisses, “Is that what you’ve been thinking about all day, baby girl? How much you want that dirty man’s cock in your pussy?”

He unsnaps her shorts and shoves a hand inside her panties. His blunt fingers probe her folds, and she whimpers at his rough strokes. There’s no gentleness here. She’s driven him past that. 

“Wet,” he confirms, grinding against her backside. “Does the thought of this man make you wet, baby? This strange, dirty man?”

“Nuh-uh,” she gasps into his palm. “No, I—no—”

Daddy grunts as he rubs his cock on her ass, his sweatpants providing little protection. They bang into the wall, but not loud enough for Mom to overhear. Rey shifts her feet on the hardwood floor, opening her legs. His fingers plunge in and out of her pussy, relentless, and her forehead meets the wall. 

A moan catches in her throat. She knows Daddy wants her to beg now—this is normally the point when she gives in to him. But she can still see Mom’s lips on his cheek, and she remembers for the hundredth time that they still sleep in the same room. The same _bed._

So she swallows and whispers, “I think—I think he had a big cock, Daddy. He looked—looked like he—”

“ _Enough._ ” Daddy’s had it. He pins her to the wall and fucks her with three fingers, stretching her pussy painfully wide. She gasps, lips pressed to the wallpaper, and pushes her ass into his crotch. His cock is stiff and pulsing, and she wants it inside her, she wants to drag him down on the floor and rip their clothes off, she wants to ride him until they’re both covered in cum, she wants all of it, all of him, every inch—

Her knees shake, and she braces her hands against the wall. Orgasms are not rare for her, but they’re always violent. Without the proper support, she’ll end up a writhing ball on the floor. She’s learned this the hard way. 

But just before her orgasm can spill through her, Daddy slips his fingers free and withdraws his hand from her panties. He kisses the back of her neck, insultingly chaste, and pats her bottom. 

“Maybe next time,” he says mockingly, moving out of reach.

Rey struggles to turn around, her legs weak, eyes wide. Did he just—?

“You—” She gapes at him, speechless. Her body shudders in the aftermath of an almost-but-not-quite wave of pleasure. 

_You’re not playing fair!_ she wants to scream. But when has he ever? There are no rules here, except when Daddy says otherwise. No rules but the ones he makes to keep her obediant. 

Bypassing the sofa, Daddy saunters into the kitchen without a backward glance. Rey hastily adjusts her shorts and scampers after him. How _rude._

Her pussy still throbs, and she makes a frustrated noise under her breath. He’ll pay for that. Maybe while he’s at work on Monday, in a meeting or busy with a client, she’ll send him a video of her masturbating. That’s something she’s been thinking about for a while, ever since she saw a teacher-student role-play video. 

At the kitchen table, Rey collapses into her seat. Mom sets heaping plates of dragon noodles before them both. Daddy doesn’t look at her, not even when she kicks his shin. The smell of home-cooked noodles reminds her that she’s actually starving, and she picks up her fork. 

While Mom talks about her florist job and Daddy answers questions about work, Rey inhales her plate of pasta and tunes them out. It’s just work shit. Boring. Plus, she's still mad at him for teasing her with an orgasm. He's so going to regret that. 

“I had an interesting conversation today.”

Rey freezes, a lump of noodles catching in her throat. She chokes it down and gulps greedily from her glass of ice water. Uh-oh. 

“Amilyn called,” Mom continues, oblivious to Rey’s distress. She twirls spaghetti noodles around the tines of her fork. “She was really upset.”

“Oh?” Daddy seems wholly uninterested in Poe’s wife. Under the table, his giant foot knocks into Rey’s, and she scooches over, annoyed. He wants to be playful after what happened in the living room? Yeah, right. 

Mom raises her eyebrows and pauses dramatically. “Amilyn thinks he’s cheating on her. Poe,” she adds, as if that’s not obvious. 

Rey swallows thickly and stares at her dinner plate. Damnit, Mom. 

Daddy carefully sets his water glass down. “...Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Mom nods solemnly, although it doesn’t require any special observational skills to see she’s thrilled to be relaying such information. “Amilyn says he’s been acting distant lately. Not always _present_ , you know?” 

He nods, looking thoughtful. Rey knows it’s an act. “Does she have proof?”

“Of course not,” Mom scoffs, waving her fork in the air. Soy sauce splatters on the cream-colored tablecloth. “I think she’s losing it. Poe loves his family.”

“That he does.” He nudges Rey’s foot again, but she doesn’t look up. Fuck. 

“I know you men have the whole _bro code_ thing,” Mom says with an amused laugh, “but I figured you would’ve mentioned something like that to me. If it was true.”

It’s obvious to Rey that she’s fishing for details, despite claiming that Amilyn’s just "overreacting." Her stomach churns. It’s stupid. She shouldn’t feel bad. She and Poe have never actually had sex, so he’s never actually cheated. Right? Watching doesn’t count. And okay, maybe he’s hinted a few times that he would like to take Rey to bed, but it hasn’t happened and it never will. Daddy won’t allow that. 

So there’s nothing to worry about. 

Biting her lip, Rey pushes her plate back from the edge of the table. It bunches the tablecloth, and Mom cuts her a narrow-eyed look.

“Sweetie, you still have half a plate left!” 

“It’s really filling,” she says with an awkward shrug. Every nerve screams, _Get me out of here!_ “I’ll save the rest for tomorrow.”

“If you say so.” Mom crosses her legs under the table and immediately forgets all about Rey. Unsurprising. Once she catches even a whiff of drama, real or not, she’s on it like white on rice. Charcoal on a grill? Whatever. 

“So I got off the phone and called Rey over to see what she thought—”

Oh boy. She takes that as her cue to hightail it out of there. Daddy’s probably going to be upset she didn’t warn him. He hates being blindsided like this. Says it makes him feel powerless, and if there’s anything Daddy hates, it’s losing control of a situation. 

Up in her bedroom, Rey shuts her door and finally changes into a comfortable outfit: fresh white socks and a cotton nightgown. It’s green like her eyes and stops just above her knees. She tends to flail in her sleep, so she likes to have a lot of space to mvoe. Gathering her hair into a low ponytail, she plops down on the bed and spreads out her math homework.

God, she fucking _hates_ math. 

It’s a Friday night, and normal kids her age are probably out with friends. Seeing a movie or riding bikes in the park, eating dinner at Fresno’s or storming the Heightstown Mall. There’s a new store there, Delia’s, that moved in right next to Victoria’s Secret. She wanted to check it out the other day, but Mom was impatient to bring Rey home before her bi-weekly nail appointment. 

Rey’s never been allowed out with friends. That’s been a rule since she was old enough to try and break it. It’s fine for Rose and Jannah to come over to her house, but there’s only so much they can do—only so many shows to watch, memes to share, TikToks to imitate—before things get boring. 

Daddy won’t let her go beyond the yard because it’s _unsafe_ for a girl like her. Whatever that means. Everybody else in her grade gets to wander the town unsupervised, but for some reason that’s not good enough. Daddy wants her at home on the weekends. “Non-negotiable,” he’s said before. “You’ll stay where I can see you.” 

Sighing, Rey crosses her legs and opens her Geometry textbook. It’s gigantic, and the pages are so thin they’re translucent in the sun. Sometimes she really wonders why they’re forced to learn about quadrilaterals and the Euclidean triangle proof when there are real mysteries like taxes and mortgages to figure out. The senselessness of it _infuriates_ her, which might be why a single night’s homework takes her several hours to complete—she’s usually too fucking mad to solve for X. 

At some point, Rey becomes distantly aware of noise from the kitchen. Dishes clattering, the sink running, the low rumble of the dishwasher. Mom’s cleaning up. The light outside her window gradually dims to sunset yellows and pinks; soon it’ll fade entirely to black. Mom will collapse on the couch with a glass of red wine and prepare for her nightly Real Housewives marathon.

“So if CE equals FE,” she mumbles, smothering a yawn, “and EB equals ED, then that must mean…” 

_How about who cares?_ she thinks irritably, chewing on the end of her pencil. The pink eraser is already indented with teeth marks. _Who cares if this angle is true or not? What does that even mean?_

Exasperated, she flips to the next page. The movement is too sharp, too abrupt—the page tears from the spine near the bottom. Rey’s heart lurches. Oh _no._ These textbooks are stupidly expensive. 

“Careful.”

Her head jerks up. Daddy’s in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His arms are crossed, and he looks comfortable, like he’s been there a while. She frowns—didn’t she close the door? How did he get it open without her noticing?

“That’s three hundred dollars right there,” he adds, nodding at the book. 

“Sorry,” she mutters, gnawing at the pencil end. At this rate she’ll be up all night. Forget an early morning rendezvous to their Motel 6. She’ll be lucky to make it to breakfast fully conscious.

Daddy doesn’t say anything, and a prickle of anxiety works its way down her spine. His presence is unavoidable. Is he upset? Angry? Disappointed? Hard to tell. All she knows is that he’s just _looming_ there, and she doesn’t like that. It reminds her of the creepy van across the street. 

“Bedtime,” he says finally. 

But Rey shakes her head. “Not done yet. I still have, like, two more pages. Which is…” She sighs and briefly closes her eyes. “I don’t know, ten more problems?” 

Daddy straightens from the doorframe and saunters into her room. She marks his progress out of the corner of her eye but keeps most of her focus on the mumbo-jumbo in her math book. These problems won’t do themselves, and if she doesn’t finish them now, there’s little chance she’ll return to them over the weekend. 

He pauses by her nightstand to touch the soft petals of a scarlet-hued rose. There’s always half a dozen flowers in a marble-patterned vase by her bedside—Daddy likes her room to smell fresh. He’s been buying them for her since she was old enough to understand their significance. 

_I love you,_ they say. _I love you, and I love you, and I love you._ A declaration for each rose. Every night he'll whisper his six _I love yous_ before she falls asleep. 

Rey rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. _Given O is the midpoint of MP and NQ, prove triangle MON—_

With one finger, Daddy flips the cover of the textbook closed. 

“What—”

“That wasn’t a request,” he says mildly. 

“ _Daddy—_ “ she whines, too tired to care if she’s being stubborn. It’s getting late, and she’s exhausted, and this stupid math with these stupid triangles isn’t going to magically solve itself. 

He ignores her feeble protests and scoops all her belongings—textbook, binder, loose-leaf pages, pencil and highlighter—into his arms and tosses them carelessly on her desk. She doesn’t even want to think about how much trouble she’ll have to go through to organize it all by chapter unit again. 

Daddy looms over the bed and extends a hand expectantly. She sighs but yanks the rubber band from her hair. He places it on her nightstand and raises an eyebrow. 

“But I’m wearing the comfy ones—” she starts, pouting. 

He snaps his fingers, and she grumbles but hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and drags them down her legs. They’re not from Victoria’s Secret or anywhere the girls at school might deem “cool.” These are definitely granny panties—soft cotton, plain green, and with enough fabric to cover her front and back. They’re not meant to be seen by anyone. Comfort over style. 

She slaps them into Daddy’s hand and scooches back until she’s immersed in the stack of pillows by her headboard. He wraps her panties around his wrist until the fabric’s as tight as a real bracelet and then climbs into bed. They snuggle under the covers, both of them settling into the toasty warmth. 

Already drowsy, Rey leans her head on his chest. Daddy’s arms slide around her body and hold her fast to his side. When his lips meet the top of her head, she smiles and cuddles close. 

“Rey, baby.”

She grunts. _Sleep time, Daddy._

“That man you mentioned,” he begins slowly. “From the CVS.” 

“Mhm.”

“He wasn’t wearing a suit, right?”

“Uh, no?” What a weird question. 

“...You sure?” 

Rey scrunches her nose and pushes her face into his shoulder. “Daddy, I _said_ he was dirty.” 

“I know,” he murmurs, stroking her hair. She settles, nuzzling against his warm skin. “I know, baby. I just needed to double check.” 

“Mm. Why?”

He doesn’t answer, and she’s too tired to pursue it. Maybe he’s worried that he somehow knows the guy. If they both wear suits, then they might work near each other. Or something. Her brain’s too fried to follow his line of thinking. 

Very carefully, Daddy slides a hand inside her nightgown to cup her bare hip. She sighs at the contact and goes limp as he begins to caress her skin. His big thumb presses into her hip bone, and she groans low in her throat. The heat of him is so wonderful. Like her own personal furnace. Always there when she needs him.

Only half-conscious now—who knew quadrilaterals could so drastically tire a girl out?—Rey tilts her head back on the pillows and tugs on Daddy’s shirt until he leans down. Their lips meet, and she melts into the taste of him. She’s pretty sure their mouths were made from the same mold. Their tongues meet, not so much fighting as gliding, swirling, teasing, their breath hitching as they both sink deeper into it—a full immersion. His arms cradle her like something precious, and Rey makes herself small against his side, basking in his largeness. 

Since earliest memory, she’s belonged to him—a Daddy’s girl through and through. Everyone said so. Her childhood was Saturday morning cartoons on the couch, soccer practice, shoe shopping, Chinese takeout. All with Daddy. They were always affectionate with one another, and when things eventually escalated—in that gradual, innocuous, somehow inevitable way these things do—it didn’t seem strange. In fact, the switch hardly seemed like a switch at all. It was more a natural progression. Expected, almost. 

Rey’s never thought it odd, yet she’s also known on a subliminal level that this whole thing must be kept private. Mom doesn’t need to know, for obvious reasons, and her friends wouldn’t understand their relationship. So as usual, it’s just the two of them. Rey and Daddy. An exclusive club of two. 

Except for weekday mornings, when Poe makes it three. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She struggles to organize her thoughts. They’re both breathing heavily, Daddy’s eyes dark and lustful, her lungs straining for air. He often kisses her so rough, sometimes she has to remind him that she needs to breathe too. 

“Poe told me not to,” she admits, touching the corner of his mouth with her fingertip. They’re so often on the same page that she doesn’t even need to ask what he means. 

Daddy stiffens. “He did? Jesus, Rey. What have I told you about keeping secrets from me?”

“You don’t like it,” she mutters, biting the inside of her cheek. 

“That’s right.” He adjusts their position, arms sliding out from under her so he can grip her chin. His eyes are burning. Angry. “You need to show me the texts from Poe. I’m assuming they _are_ texts?” 

Rey nods sleepily. There’s no other way for Poe to contact her, save calling, but they all know how needlessly dangerous that would be. Texting is their only form of safe communication.

Exhaustion threatens. Her eyes start to slide closed, but Daddy nibbles on her bottom lip. “Stay with me, baby. There’s...something I need to tell you.”

“Mm.” Her head lolls, and he slides his hand down to her neck. The pressure brings her back from the edge of sleep. 

“I quit my job.”

Rey is suddenly _very_ awake. “W-what?” 

“A few months ago,” he admits, running his thumb along the base of her neck. “February.”

“You— But _why_?” she splutters, shocked. He makes good money at his job. At least, that’s what Mom says when she splurges at Nordstrom every other week. 

“It’s complicated.” Daddy leans down to kiss the corners of her mouth, but she pushes him back. 

“Mom doesn’t know, does she?” Rey’s eyes widen. “Wait. _February?_ Where—where do you go during the day?” It’s _May._ They’re not supposed to keep secrets from one another! 

“Well.” Daddy pulls her into his lap, batting aside her half-hearted protests. He fixes her legs so she’s straddling him, her bare pussy molded to the front of his sweatpants. She can feel the hard ridge of his cock through the cotton. “I work with Poe now. I’m a...liaison, you could say.”

 _Liaison._ Rey scrambles to bring up the meaning of the word. She’s not dumb, but English vocab isn’t exactly her strongest subject. “But Poe works for the school district.”

“...He’s recently taken on a second job.” 

Rey remembers her mother’s words from earlier: _Amilyn said Poe’s been acting strange lately. Coming and going at odd hours._ Could he have gotten a secret second job again? “Um, okay. What do you do?” 

“I feed Poe information,” he says slowly, and she knows him well enough to understand he’s picking his words carefully. “He’s relatively new to the field, and I have experience. So I help him.”

Rey frowns. That sounds too simple. “And you get paid for that?” 

Daddy nods. He folds down the hem of his sweatpants until his cock bobs free. Gripping her waist, he settles her on top of his shaft, which pulses hot and needy between her pussy lips. The contact makes her shiver, but she refuses to be distracted. 

“This...is a secret, right? Why don’t you want Mom to know?” Rey smooths her hands down his broad chest, smiling a little when his pecs flex in response. She leans forward to kiss the hollow of his throat. 

“This job isn’t mainstream,” Daddy explains patiently, capturing her hands in both of his. She’s struck by the difference in size, the way his big hands seem to completely swallow her own. Watching her face, Daddy kisses her palms, tongue trailing languidly across her skin. “It’s in a very specific field.”

“Well, are you going to tell me what it is?” She always derives a weird sense of satisfaction from knowing stuff that Mom doesn’t. Just one more thing that keeps her in the dark. 

“Are you sure you want to talk about it?” Daddy bunches her nightgown up near her hips and slowly starts to grind, his cock making obscene squelches as it moves through the slickness between her legs. She’s already drenched, her arousal sticky on his shaft, but that doesn’t come as a surprise—one simple touch from him sets her on fire. 

“Daddy…” she warns, peering up at him through her lashes. Her cheeks heat, body swaying in time with his hips. “You’re not allowed to distract me.”

“Not _allowed_?” With an exaggerated pout, he pinches her nipples through the thin cotton, and she squirms on his dick. It feels good, but it hurts too. Confusing.

"Nope." 

His eyes grow darker, more intense. “Baby girl, how many times do I have to tell you, hm?”

She tightens her thighs on either side of his hips, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. “You tell me a lot of things, Daddy.”

He throws a quick glance at the open door. “I’m allowed to do anything I want to you,” he rumbles, squeezing her bare ass. “Especially when you lie to me.” 

“Lie?” She perks up, indignant. “I haven’t _lied—_ ”

“You didn’t tell me about Poe and Amilyn.”

Rey deflates a little. “Oh. Well, I just didn’t have time before Mom—”

Daddy suddenly grips her throat and yanks her close, their noses bumping. He's really into that today. “A text,” he growls, “a simple _text,_ Rey. Is that so difficult?” 

“No, Daddy,” she simpers, immediately contrite. His grip is verging on a little too tight. She doesn’t want to tip him over the edge, not with the door still open and Mom right downstairs. 

A hiss escapes his clenched teeth. “First you dress like a slut, then—”

“I wore my uniform!” she interjects in a harsh whisper. “No one saw my shorts, no one—”

Daddy lightly slaps her cheek. “Hush. I didn’t ask for an explanation, did I?”

“No, Daddy,” she says miserably. 

He seems mollified by this response. “ _Then_ you lie to me about this whole thing with Poe. Any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me?”

She shakes her head quickly. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you right away. Poe wanted to keep it quiet, and I thought—”

“We’ll just have to limit your contact with Poe from now on, won’t we?” Daddy looks displeased again. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, lower lip quivering. Except for when they’re playing, she doesn’t like to make him mad. 

Daddy sighs and strokes a hand down her thigh. His eyes catch on something between her legs. “Oh no, baby. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Rey frowns and moves aside the hem of her nightgown. Black and blue bruises pepper her inner thighs. Her mind flashes to yesterday morning: how he fucked her awake before Mom was even out of bed, how he pulled over on the expressway to take her again before school. She protested, and loudly, because people passing by in the right lane could definitely see things they shouldn't, but Daddy didn’t seem to care. 

Now, he draws her into his chest and drops his chin on her head. “I was too rough with you.”

She doesn’t deny it.

“You must be so sore,” he coos, running his big hands up and down her back. She arches like a cat into his touch, almost purring. “We’ll hold off tonight, and tomorrow—”

“ _No,_ ” she protests, clinging to him. “I’m fine, Daddy, really.”

“Baby, you have bruises on—”

“ _No,_ ” she repeats, shifting her hips when she feels him start to rise. The head of his cock brushes her pussy, and she slides up and down his length, trying to usher him inside. “Stay, please.” 

He groans and grabs her hips to still her movement. “Not a good idea, baby.”

But that’s not an acceptable answer. She needs him, and he’s just playing hard to get. Another one of his games. When he draws his legs up, getting ready to displace her, Rey grabs his cock in a small fist and guides it between her legs, whining, “Play with me!”

All pretense vanishes. He thrusts sharply inside her until she’s fully impaled, and when he surges to his feet, clutching her ass, she bounces on his cock, hands clasped behind his neck. The friction is immediate and intense; her head tips back on a moan. 

Daddy staggers across her bedroom, sweatpants hanging loosely on his thighs, and manages to shut the door without slamming it. One hand supports her bottom, while the other bands across her back, keeping her close to him. Downstairs, Mom laughs at something one of the Real Housewives screeches in a high-pitched, Valley-girl accent. Sounds like the Orange County show. 

“So wrong,” Daddy rasps, stumbling over to the bed. “This is so wrong, baby.”

She almost rolls her eyes, but it’s taking all of her concentration to ride his dick without slipping off, so all she can manage is an amused huff. He’ll talk about how _wrong_ it all is, how _depraved,_ how _messed up,_ all while he’s balls deep in her pussy or, even better, forcing his cock down her throat until she gags. Both of them know it's _he_ who started this thing, _he_ who continues to hunt her down when he's in need of a good fuck. This _wrong_ nonsense fools no one. 

“Tell me, Daddy,” she gasps, fucking herself on his cock as he leans against the wall for support. “Tell me how bad you wanna fuck me.” 

“Christ.” He swivels until she’s pinned to the wall, clenching her hips so he can rut into her at his own frenzied pace. “My little girl’s all grown up, isn’t she? Perfect—” He grunts and slams into her again and again. “—size for Daddy’s dick.”

“Make me cum,” she whines in his ear, rolling her hips in time with his thrusts. “Make me cum, Daddy, make me _cum._ ” 

“ _Shit,_ ” he gasps. They topple sideways onto her bed, and it’s all Rey can do to suppress her moans. They’re not at the Motel 6. There is no locked door here, no aura of secrecy. Just Daddy and Rey, and Mom down below. 

He must not be completely senseless with passion, though, because when she winces at a particularly rough stroke, one that jostles the bed frame, Daddy starts to slow down, apparently remembering the bruises he gave her yesterday morning. 

A distressed whimper climbs from her throat. She digs her heels into the meat of his hips, murmuring, “Faster, please go faster.”

“—Hurt you,” he manages, breathing heavily. His balls draw up tight against her pussy, and she knows he’s close. 

Rey twines her fingers through his hair and licks his neck. Her hips shoot forward, encouraging him. “Don’t care. Cum inside me, _please,_ Daddy. Cum so deep—”

Her begging is the last straw. He pins her to the bed and empties himself, groaning loudly enough to be heard over the TV. She cums too, much quieter, legs shaking around his hips. With her mouth pressed to his shoulder, she can feel the rapid beating of his heart. 

Downstairs, the TV volume lowers a few degrees. Still, he doesn’t stop pumping until his flow weakens to a dribble, then to little more than a leak. The bed frame rattles, occasionally bumping into the nightstand. Chest heaving, he grinds the last of his cum inside her pussy before withdrawing. 

Daddy crouches on his knees between her spread legs, staring down at her. His cock is limp now on the sheets, his shaft covered in sticky white. “You’re so beautiful like this, baby.”

She runs a light finger over her clit, careful not to press too hard. When she holds her hand up, white cream slicks her fingers. She briefly debates licking it off before offering it to Daddy. 

He grabs her wrist and draws her fingers into his mouth, suckling her cum with lewd little suctioning noises. Rey giggles and playfully pulls on her hand. Daddy kisses his way up her arm until he meets her neck, and then he’s biting and licking her sweaty skin, the two of them rolling on the mattress. 

“You’re Daddy’s favorite flavor,” he murmurs, sucking on her earlobe, trapping her against his chest.

“Mm.” She cuddles into him, yawning. “What do I taste like?”

“Vanilla.” He kisses her forehead, so light and at odds with the stranglehold he had on her not two minutes ago. “Sweet like vanilla.”

She sighs, her heart full. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Then he inhales heavily. “But I need to leave before Mom comes up.” 

Tears immediately well in her eyes. “ _No,_ Daddy. Can’t you stay?”

He shakes his head, but she sees the possibilities flickering to life in his eyes. Alternative strategies to circumvent The Mom Problem. 

“Please?” she whimpers, nuzzling his neck. With a deep sniff, she commits his scent to memory. Just in case there's no way to avoid a separation. “I need you.”

Daddy sighs shakily, all his resistance effectively shattered. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The bed's cold without him in it. He’s gone for almost twenty minutes, but when he enters her room again there’s a smile on his face. Rey sits up, already reaching for him. Shutting the door and clicking both locks into place, Daddy crosses the room in three quick strides and scoops her into his arms, arranging them on the bed to his liking. 

“I told Mom not to wait up for me. That I had some extra work to take care of in my study. In fact, it might take me all night.” Daddy kisses her temple. “As long as we’re quiet, I can stay.”

She squeals excitedly into his chest, but he quickly muffles it with a hard kiss. In minutes, she’s dozing, despite Daddy’s gentle fingers stroking between her legs and his slow, heated kisses. He licks inside her mouth and doesn't allow her to move while he does it—a slow, inevitable devouring. 

It’s been a long day, and she needs to rest up for the weekend. Daddy no doubt has a special activity or three for when Mom leaves to catch up with her friends. She has at least half a day's worth of _girl time_ planned.

But in the morning, as golden yellow light spears the floor of her bedroom and Daddy’s lips seek her throat, there comes a horrified scream from the floor below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **final chapter count I swearrrrrrr**

**Author's Note:**

> ~~say hi! (or come yell at me)~~  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/naboojakku)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/naboojakku/?hl=en)


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